Novis Dolor
by Princess-Xion
Summary: -suspended- "Please don't make me do this, Elena . . ." She lifts herself onto her tip-toes, pushing her throat against his lips. Her fingernails graze through his hair, eliciting a shudder and a low groan from between his lips. "Just do it, Stefan," she whimpers. "I want you to." -You should never rewind the hands of time- Darkfic. [StefanxElena; other pairings] Trigger warning.
1. Prologue - Infinity

**Song of the Chapter: " _Fuel to Fire"_ by Agnes Obel**

* * *

 **Prologue - Infinity**

 **ooo**

"Don't time travel into the past, roaming through the nuances as if they can change. Don't bookmark pages you've already read."

\- James Altucher

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

Two hands of the same mother, intertwined in spell. Their eyes meet, hearts pulsate with excitement, and the magic flows from within them in undulating waves. They gasp as the Latin words seem to splash forth from between their lips, threading the darkest of expressions into the very depths of the incantation.

Memories begin to swell and twirl. The universe begins to quake, stars capitulating to their master. Pulsars spin faster and faster while black holes implode, their viscous matter reaching desperately for a new gravity source to consume.

Two voices mate as one in a simultaneous cry of pain and joy:

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

He kneels before her grave, placing a fresh red rose among the remnants of fourteen others. It's 2031 and the gaping wound is still as fresh as ever. Behind him, he hears the faint sounds of caroling Catholics and he feels ill.

Christmas has never been the same.

He places his trembling fingers to his lips and kisses them, as though her petal soft mouth can feel his longing. The headstone is rough beneath his fingers and he curses himself for not awarding her marble. After all, angels aren't tossed in unmarked graves when they die at the foot of the Lord.

A human grave seemed just as crude.

"Here again, brother?"

He doesn't move at the voice; doesn't flinch at his brother's comforting hand upon his shoulder. He lowers his head and forces back the tears.

"I will come here every year just the same, my brother," he responds mutely.

He smells lavender and then he sees his sister lower herself beside him. She gives him a soft, sad smile and moves her blonde hair behind her ears.

"Thank you for coming, my sister," he whispers.

"Always and forever," she breathes, her eyes sparkling with tears. She looks at the gravestone and sighs.

His brother then speaks, but the words seem muddled up. Confused, he turns to question his brother.

"What did you say?" he asks.

His brother tries to speak, but never gets the chance.

Without warning, everything fades to black.

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

The hunter sets his leather bag on the bar, the loud clanking sounds garnering him the attention of the patrons. He ignores their curious stares and orders himself a shot of vodka.

He is still covered in the blood of his enemies.

"You look like Hell."

The hunter's stony visage breaks into a wide smile and he turns to greet his old friend.

"Fifteen years and you"re still as honest as ever, man." They embrace and then take their seats at the bar.

"Not entirely the same." He ruffles wavy blonde locks that fall to his shoulders and points to his badge. "Now I can legally carry a gun."

The hunter throws his head back in laughter. "Not that the law ever stopped us from carrying."

The blonde ordered a drink and then patted his old friend's shoulder. "It sucks that we only get to see each other once a year. Given any thought to coming back to Mystic Falls?"

The hunter tipped his vodka down his throat and then slammed the shot glass on the wooden bartop. "Nah, man. I think you got it under control. I just came back to pay my respects to my-"

As if there is a silent explosion, everything falls away into nothingness. Amidst the quiet carnage, the chanting goes on.

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

She places the freshly watered flowerpot on the windowsill, smiling faintly in admiration at its reticent beauty. She touches the petals, gently pushing magic inside so as to enhance the color. She smiles again and wishes her best friend were here to playfully accuse her of breaking the rules.

She hears him enter the kitchen but doesn't turn, choosing instead to await his embrace. He smells of sandalwood and spice and she closes her eyes, inhaling of him.

"Hello, my witchy _mademoiselle_ ," he murmurs.

She turns to face him then, lifting her hands to hold his face between her mocha-colored fingers. Her cropped hair falls back as she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Their lips meet and all is right.

"I see you're home late again," she teases. "Still wearing your dinner."

He merely smirks, the crimson stains on his chin seeming roguish rather than morbid. "I plead the fifth," he jokes, stepping backward to watch her turn back to the sink. She's washing dishes, a domestic behavior that seems fitting with the knee-length pinup dress she's wearing.

"Let's go to the _Louvre_ this weekend," she says, a bird chirping in the yard out front as if to add a melody to the beautiful song that was her personality.

But he doesn't answer. And the second he doesn't answer, she knows something's wrong. She can feel the magic looping its way toward her mind from the ground up. She stills her wildly-beating heart and looks within.

She hears the chanting before she loses consciousness.

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

He enters the burial chamber, his eyes slicing through the darkness. He moves slowly along the walls, lighting each candle one by one. The golden lights flicker throughout the room and when he turns around, he can see that she's just as divine in death as she was in life. Her violet dress drapes her curves with an understated sensuality that only someone such as her could possess. She looks just as she did on the day of her death.

His heart hurts just as it did that day, too.

He gazes down at her, holding the necklace tightly in his hand. It's been fifteen years and he knows it's time. Time to stop lying to himself and to all of his friends. Time to move on and live out his immortal life without her. His throat begins to ache from the force of holding the turmoil back.

Although he knows his quality of life is diminished due to this grief, he's terrified. He remembers telling her this out of pain, but now he's saying it to himself for his own benefit.

"I don't know what I look like when I'm not in love with you," he sobs, breaking down by her deathbed of stone. He wishes that his tears alone could awaken her but he knows. He knows that only in the death of another could she live again. And even if she were to live once more, she died loving someone else. The pain would only continue.

This was why he had to let her go.

He stands up, fingers still quivering, and lays the necklace on top of her clasped hands. It doesn't sizzle, as he has long since removed the vervain. When she doesn't open her eyes, he feels the remnants of his heart shatter. As the pieces flutter to the floor, mingling with his crystalline tears, he realizes that the candles are dimming.

He looks up in bemusement only for all the lights to go out at once.

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

She sits down next to her husband on the couch, smiling at him when he kisses her cheek. She curls her legs up onto the cushions and rests her elbow behind his head. Her fingers trail through his soft hair, which he has never changed.

"You're so reliable, sweetheart," she sighs.

"Reliable?" he asks, smiling faintly as he turns the page in his book. "How so?"

"I dunno," she responds, resting her head on his shoulder. "Ever since I got pregnant, you were reliable. And now you're this wonderful dad, devoted teacher, and loving husband. Oh, and you've had the same haircut for fifteen years."

He chuckles. "Well, I can't argue with that."

They sit in silence for a long moment, enjoying the suburban charm of their existence.

"This is everything I ever wanted," she breathes out, listening to her husband's heartbeat. Unable to control it, her fangs begin to ache and the soft area underneath her eyes begins to prickle. She closes her eyes and fights it back, as she has always done for him.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, pushing his reading glasses up his nose. He shifts so that she sits up of her own accord, him eyeing her in query.

"It's okay," she says, standing up. "There's bags in the fridge."

"No," he says, simply holding his wrist out. "You can have some if you want, dear."

Her mouth throbs for a moment, and then she is laughing at the absurdity of the situation. That her entirely human husband could be asking his entirely vampire wife to feed from him was beyond humorous. Not to mention, bizarre.

She starts to respond but is cut off by a loud chanting coming from upstairs. Her husband gets up and the both of them turn to gaze through the living room to the empty stairwell. They exchange alarmed glances as realization dawns upon them.

All of the color drains from her face and she clenches her fists at her sides.

"They promised," is all she has time to whisper before everything ceases and their suburban fantasy evaporates.

 **ooo**

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

" _It is time."_

She looks up from her diary, wondering if the voice was just part of her imagination. She listens quietly for a moment, hearing the river rushing by down the hill. The breeze wafts gently through the grass and she can hear animals running through the forest in play.

Even in her sleeping death, she dreams of beauty but never does she hear another's voice.

She hears it again.

" _It is time . . ."_

Her waist-length chocolate brown tresses fan out around her body as she hops to her feet and spins around. Her first emotion is sadness. She is worried that she is hearing someone speaking because the time has come for her to wake up, and she knows that means her best friend has drawn her last breath. She closes her eyes and tries to remain calm.

"Who said that?" she asks aloud, peering cautiously around the forest clearing. Her diary is discarded on the ground as she hears a twig snap. She whips around and immediately cries out. A light so bright that it burns her retinas causes her to shield her vision. When she tries to open them for a split second, all she sees is the silhouette of two forms.

They are holding hands.

"Wh-Who are you?" the brunette girl calls out, falling to her knees due to the sheer power emanating from the light. She keeps her arm up over her head, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping it's all just a side effect of the spell cast upon her.

 _"Novis dolor . . . Nisi a quo familia . . ."_

Their voices are getting louder by the second as they chant those strange words, and she can feel a heaviness settling upon her, pressing her down into the grass.

"St-Stop!" she wails desperately, unable to breathe or move. "What are you doing?!"

" _Novis dolor . . . ! Nisi a quo familia . . . !_ "

The voices, inherently female, are practically screaming now. They chant the phrase over and over, and she realizes that it's a spell.

She gets pressed harder and harder into the grass, her fingers clawing at the dirt faintly as her consciousness starts to dissipate. She can feel the magic slithering over every part of her body, tearing her apart in hundreds of directions. It's painful, more exquisite and excruciating than any pain she had ever experienced, and she is milliseconds away from pleading for a true death to overtake her.

" _NOVIS DOLOR! NISI A QUO FAMILIA! NOVIS DOLOR! NISI A QUO FAMILIA!"_

Then, just as suddenly as it begins, everything goes quiet. She feels a hand gripping her chin, slowly lifting her up onto her knees. She opens her eyes and sees nothing but shadows and darkness.

"Why are you doing this?" she chokes out, feeling blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth as her body is wracked with agony. She can't see anything, but she can feel the diminutive fingers on her face.

" _It began with you, Elena Gilbert, and so it must end_ ," a voice whispered, echoing through her mind.

The pain swells to a point where Elena can no longer distinguish between what is real and what isn't.

The hand leaves her skin and then two voices again become one.

 _"Nunc autem soluti sumus semper simul, soror."_

Elena's eyelids fall shut and everything stops. Once . . . And for all.

 _Two hands of the same mother, intertwined in spell. Their eyes meet, hearts pulsate with excitement, and the magic flows from within them in undulating waves. They gasp as the Latin words seem to splash forth from between their lips, threading the darkest of expressions into the very depths of the incantation._

 _". . . Now . . . We will always be together, sister . . ."_

 **ooo**

"The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction."

\- Rachel Carson

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hello! I just want to introduce myself to you all, since this is my first Vampire Diaries fanfiction ever. I have only ever written Kingdom Hearts fanfics, but I really truly love TVD and recently started watching them all again. I got this idea a few days ago and can't wait to write it all out. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know how the prologue is and if you are intrigued to know what's going on.**

 **Any guesses as to who everyone is in each part above?**

 **Also I can't tell you what the chanting means because it might give away a major plot point. But feel free to guess! Just don't give anything away in your review!**


	2. Aurora

**Song of the Chapter: " _Way Out" -_** **Bass Drum of Death**

* * *

 **Chapter One - Aurora**

 **ooo**

"A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare

to the jeweled vision of a life started anew."

\- Aberjhani

 **ooo**

 _E - L - E -_

"What are you doing?"

At the sound of the voice behind her, seventeen-year-old Elena Gilbert lifted her finger off of the spray can nozzle. She glanced over her shoulder at her best friend and grinned wolfishly. Without any sort of response, she turned around and finished painting her name on the wall of the Stoner Pit.

" _N . . . A,_ " she finished, pleased with her handiwork. "Elena. Now no one will ever forget me, even if they want to."

Vickie Donovan scoffed, though the edges of her laugh were tinged with fondness.

"You've put more graffiti on this wall than everyone put together, Elena," she said. "How's about you leave some room for me?"

Elena smirked, handing the can over to her friend. Vickie took it, tossing her half-spent cigarette aside. As she knelt down in front of the wall and began spraying her name below Elena's, the Gilbert girl leaned over to retrieve the discarded death stick. She took a drag, feeling the hot burning smoke fill her lungs.

Just as Vickie was finishing, the sound of an engine pulling up behind them caused both girls to drop the items in their hands and whirl around. The old blue pickup truck screeched to a halt and Vickie's brother hopped down from the seat.

"Come on, you guys," Matt practically whined. "Can you try not being troublemakers for one night?"

"No," Vickie chuckled, turning back to finish her painting. The gushing of the spray can was audible.

"Mom wouldn't like to hear you're vandalizing the school the night before the new year starts," Matt chided, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

"At least you have a mom," Elena said with a morbid laugh, inhaling of the cigarette for the second time so she could finish it off.

Matt shot her a scathing look but didn't say anything to her. Not that he would, since she broke up with him the day after the accident and effectively detonated a bomb upon his heart. Elena's gaze traveled down the length of his body as she smoked, wondering what she ever saw in a beefed-up jock like him.

Vickie dropped the now-empty can and stood up, wiping her hands on her dark grey joggers.

"You know, Matt," she said to her brother. "The Mom threat would have a lot more effect if she wasn't constantly off God-knows-where with God-knows-who."

Matt's brow furrowed and his eyes went from his sister to Elena and back again. Elena felt uncomfortable. She could feel his judgement from where she stood and if there was one thing she hated, it was being judged. She discarded the smoldering butt of the cigarette amongst countless others on the asphalt and then she fixed Matt with a haughty glare.

"You can go now," she said with a sarcastic smile.

Matt just gazed upon her with disgust before he reached forward and grabbed Vickie's wrist. Elena watched as he dragged her best friend over to the car. She waved goodbye as their truck pulled out, but it went unnoticed. It was plain to see that Vickie was screaming obscenities at her brother in the front seat.

With a sigh, Elena sat down at the picnic table nearby. She gazed out at the empty school campus, listening to the late Summer breeze rustling through the leaves of the trees. She shifted slightly, feeling troubled. She hated when it was quiet. The absence of sound only served to pave the way for bad memories.

In Elena's life, silence beget pain.

Checking her wrist, she saw that she had a rubberband with her. She scraped her thick mass of waist-length chocolate tresses up to the top of her head, twining it into a messy bun. Some pieces fell forward to frame her heart-shaped face, but she merely brushed them back. Setting her cell phone down on the tabletop, she turned on some music.

As the sounds of " _Way Out"_ by Bass Drum of Death began to play, Elena closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The guitars and singing melted together with the drums and the screaming vocals and for some reason, the raucous noise calmed her spirit. Music was the only thing that seemed to help calm her down these days.

After the horrible Summer she'd had, it was safe to say that music was her saving grace.

All-of-the-sudden, Elena felt a chill go down her spine. She cracked one eye open. She had an oppressive feeling that she wasn't alone and even though this was Mystic Falls and nothing bad ever happened here, she knew firsthand that anything could happen. Glancing down at her clock, she saw that it was nearing midnight and definitely not a good time to be outside alone. She turned back to her phone, preparing to turn the song off so she could leave.

"Don't turn the music off," someone said, their voice crawling down her arms. "I kinda like it."

Elena froze, fear tickling her skin pale white and she slowly dragged her gaze upward.

Someone was standing a few yards away from her, completely shrouded in the shadows cast by the school building. The voice was male and when he spoke again, it was hardly louder than a whisper.

"What's a girl like you doing out here so late?"

Elena wasn't one to entertain possible creepers. She pressed pause on the music and scrambled off the bench of the picnic table, glaring at the shadowed individual.

"Just back the fuck off," was all she said before she spun on her heel and started to leave. She glanced down at her phone, starting a text to her brother Jeremy.

"Don't move."

All it took was one blink and then someone was standing directly in front of her. She wanted to step away or to get a good look at him, but for some reason, her eyes were frozen in the direction they'd been looking. All she could do was stare wide-eyed at the phone screen, even as her eyes began to sting and water from not shutting her eyelids. Confused and terrified, she wondered in her mind what was happening to her. And as she realized that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't speak, she found herself growing more alarmed by the second.

' _What's happening to me?_ ' she thought in pure terror as she felt hands gripping her shoulders. All she could see was the person's heavy black boots and baggy jeans - and nothing else. He smelled faintly of something metallic and it was so overpowering that Elena wanted to gag.

She heard a loud hissing noise, and then just as suddenly as it begun, it was over.

Elena lifted her head, looking around in puzzlement. The man was nowhere to be found and she was alone. Shock reverberated throughout her mind. Where did her assailant go? Why hadn't she been able to move, and why was she able to move now? She glanced at the spot in front of her, where the man had been standing, and saw nothing but a few spots of dark liquid.

"What the fuck?" she hissed under her breath. She wanted nothing to do with whatever drugs she was on, so she resolved to never smoke another one of Vickie's cigarettes again. She looked at her phone again, starting to jog across campus to the parking lot. Her brother had beaten her to the punch, having texted her just moments ago.

 **If you're gonna sneak in, wait a few min,** he had written. **Uncle John's still up.**

Elena scowled in annoyance, but kept walking. Jeremy and her weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment beyond texts, but she still wished he would have called her and told her earlier. Uncle John was their legal guardian and had the ability to call the police to come pick her up. He'd done it countless times before and had even had her thrown in juvy overnight for "running away."

Annoying.

 **Fine** , she replied. **Is he asking 4 me?**

Jeremy replied immediately. **Yes.**

Elena froze on the sidewalk, still within range of the school campus. She looked over her shoulder to see if the strange man had followed her and when she was satisfied that he hadn't, she allowed herself to feel anxious in regards to Jeremy's reply. She didn't want to go home now. There would be nothing but Hell to pay if she did.

There were bruises on her body that could attest to that.

Cursing below her breath, Elena turned and went the other way. She kept her eye on the Stoner's Pit and the front lawn of the school, wary that the weirdo from earlier could show up at any moment. It was highly unlikely that she'd hallucinated the instance, and almost improbable for there to be any sort of drugs on Vickie's cigarette. Scratch that - completely impossible. It was completely fucking impossible for there to be drugs on someone's cigarette that could affect her so badly that she'd hallucinate someone attempting to cause her harm.

Elena walked for a long time, deciding to take the shortcut home through the cemetery. It seemed silly for her to be scared of some random dude in a town where "nothing ever happened," but to be totally okay with walking through a cemetery in the woods at night with nothing but her iPhone for light.

"Ugh, why does it always have to rain in the Summer?" Elena groaned to herself when her combat boots slipped slightly on the muddy ground. She maneuvered through gravestones and around flowers, all while shining the phone on the ground ahead of her. She walked until she came to the edge of the trees and out onto the banks of the river. She paused for a moment to text her brother.

 **He asleep yet?** she asked.

 **Nah,** he replied. **But he asked me to bring him the Tequila from the basement so he should be out soon.**

Elena scowled. Repulsive. And typical. She should have suspected as much. She plopped down in the grass, ignoring the cold feeling of the mud through the seat of her black skinny jeans. She pulled her knees to her chest, grateful to be wearing her hooded plaid shirt. It was August 31st, but this was Mystic Falls and nights were always chilly here.

Gazing out at the rushing water, Elena found her mind going back to a place she didn't want to go. To the feeling of water in her lungs. The feeling of her father's hand slipping out of hers. The sound of metal screeching and glass cracking.

Elena's eyes began to prickle and even though nobody was around, she felt embarrassed. She hadn't allowed herself to cry for them and until the survivor's guilt went away, she never would. Taking a shuddering breath, she turned her music on and buried her face in her arms. She tried to focus on the song and not on the streaming water.

Elena looked up just as someone came to stand beside her. Panicking for a moment, thinking it might be the creeper from the Stoner's Pit, she started to crawl away to the side. But when she looked over and saw that the person was wearing skinny jeans and all-black Vans, she relaxed a little. Her eyes traveled upward and she immediately felt flustered.

A boy was standing there. He was tall and attractive, with eyebrows that were bushy in a handsome, brooding way and a faint smile that spoke of churning thoughts that would never settle. His short hair was chestnut brown with lighter brown highlights, the top of it long and styled upward in a disheveled way. His torso was clad in a dark jacket in blue or black with the hood up, his hands stuck into his pockets. He stood in a relaxed manner, his head tilted as he peered curiously down at her in a pondering way, as if he were trying to figure out what she was thinking.

Elena didn't say anything to him. She just stared.

"Katherine?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

Elena's face twisted in confusion. "Uhhh . . . Guess again. I'm Elena."

The boy's faint smile returned, and he looked almost relieved. "Oh . . . You . . . You just . . ." He shook his head and took a step closer. "I'm sorry. You just really remind me of someone."

Elena wanted to move away but something in the boy's dark visage told her he wasn't going to harm her.

He paused and then said, "I'm Stefan."

' _Stefan_ ,' Elena thought, trying not to smile. Even his name was alluring.

Then, Elena being Elena, she said, "Not to be rude or anything, Stefan, but it's kinda creepy that you're out here in the middle of the night by the cemetery."

His smile got a little wider. "You're one to talk. You're out here all by yourself."

Elena rolled her eyes and repeated her earlier thought: "It's Mystic Falls. Nothing bad ever happens here."

Stefan nodded slightly, still eyeing her curiously. He tilted his head to the other side and Elena felt a little like a bug under a microscope.

"Why are you sitting on the riverbank by yourself?" he then asked. His voice was like liquid silver and molten honey. It gave Elena goosebumps.

"Is there a law that states I can't?" Elena shot back, finding her voice. She raised one perfectly arched brow, challenging him with her gaze.

He chuckled slightly, looking out at the river for a second. Then he looked back at her. "School starts tomorrow. Shouldn't you be at home in bed?"

"What, and follow society's carefully mapped out plan for the future of a high school teen?" Elena snorted. "No thanks."

"You don't want it?" he asked sincerely.

Elena lowered her gaze, laughing quietly. "I don't know what I want."

"Well, that's not true," he said with a shrug. "You want what everyone wants."

Elena couldn't help but smile but it was more out of incredulity than amusement. "What, mysterious stranger who has all the answers?"

Stefan sat down next to her on the grass, resting back on his hands. He stretched one leg outward and brought the other up almost to his chest, watching the dark water swirling by on its way to wherever the river led. Elena watched him as openly as she dared before forcing herself to look up at the moon.

"I could tell you what you want," he said softly, "but somehow, I think you've already heard it before."

Somehow, Elena knew he was right.

She didn't know what he was about to say, but she had a feeling her teachers and other people in places of authority had been drilling their plans for her in her head for years. It was pathetic, really, that so many people allowed themselves to be bound by the shackles of education.

Stefan shifted beside her but didn't say another word, leaving Elena to feel simultaneously thrilled and awkward. This kid was obviously a new student, since she'd grown up in Mystic Falls and had never seen him before, but she was too nervous and unsure of herself to think of anything to say to him to carry on a conversation. He seemed five billion miles out of her league and yet . . . Here they were, sitting on the banks of the river, enjoying the sounds of the music on her phone together.

"Well," he said after a solid fifteen minutes of music and silence, rising to his feet in one fluid motion. He wiped dirt off of the seat of his pants and smiled down at her. "I better get going. See you at school tomorrow?"

Elena nodded, wrestling with herself over whether or not to ask him for his last name so she could Facebook stalk him at the very least. After all, she _was_ a teenage girl . . . Stefan was standing there, almost lingering in wait. Elena mentally strangled her own throat, cursing herself for being her. She may have had a smartass attitude with everyone, but when it came to boys, she was endlessly hopeless.

"Good night, Elena," Stefan said.

Elena looked up to return the parting words, but was surprised to see that he was gone. She stood up and looked around, but he was nowhere to be seen. The only sounds came from insects chirping in the woods near the cemetery. Perplexed, Elena pushed the stray hairs behind her ears for the second time that night, and then set off for home.

Perhaps this school year wouldn't be a _total_ bust.

 **ooo**

The paintbrush swept across the canvas with practiced ease, its magic spelling out a landscape of unrivaled beauty. Blues, greens, and browns mingled together to create a masterpiece to be hung amongst the greats, the paint's oils sinking into the paper as if finding a home. The painter smiled slightly to himself, a mere flick of the lips, and he dipped the brush into another color, preparing to add more to its pulchritude.

"Sir, may I enter?"

The painter halted his work, his paintbrush centimeters away from the canvas. He closed his eyes, frustrated at being interrupted in his work.

". . . You may."

The door creaked and someone entered.

"Painting a new profile photo?" another voice said, followed by a second set of footsteps.

The painter's grip on the brush tightened. He pushed back his irritation at the incessant insolence of the eldest Salvatore brother and turned to look upon the two men standing behind him. He set down the paintbrush and circular palette on a nearby table that was available for such things and he stood up. He fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and turned with wide arms.

"Ah, Damon Salvatore. Leave it to you to barge in where you're not invited," the painter said with a wide smile. "To what do we owe this most sacrosanct pleasure?"

Icy blue eyes twinkled. "You're being superfluously acrimonious, Klaus."

Klaus's smile brightened and he merely waited.

"See?" Damon said, helping himself to Klaus's bar in the corner of the room. "I can use big words, too."

Klaus chose to turn his attentions to the servant standing before him.

"You may deliver your news," he told the servant, still grinning. "And for your sake, it had better be promising. I seem to find myself _'superfluously acrimonious'_ tonight, and not in the mood for disparaging testimony."

The servant gulped visibly and, keeping his gaze low, said, "We may have a sighting of the doppelgänger, sir."

Curiosity piqued, Klaus crossed his arms over his chest. "Where?"

"In Mystic Falls, sir. Outside Mystic Falls High School, not an hour ago."

Klaus looked over at Damon, who was currently tossing back a shot of something or another. His eyes met Klaus's and something unspoken passed between them. Klaus knew Damon knew who the servant was speaking of, but whether it was a true doppelgänger or just that blasted wench Katerina Petrova was yet to be discovered.

"Should we retrieve her, sir?" the servant asked, still looking nervous.

Klaus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He didn't want to be too hasty, because in the thousand or so years he'd been alive, he'd learned that haste never got you anywhere. He turned to stare thoughtfully at his half-finished painting, deciding what to do.

"By doppelgänger . . ." Damon spoke up after taking a second shot of liquor. He set the bottle down on the bar loudly. "Do you mean Katherine?"

Klaus said nothing, his smirk growing on his face as an idea cropped up in his mind.

When no one answered him, the dark-haired Salvatore took a step toward Klaus. "As in Katherine Pierce, the - "

"Yes, yes, Damon," Klaus snapped, still amused. "The woman you love, who you would rip your own heart out for if only to hear her voice again. Katerina Petrova, or as you know her - Katherine Pierce. The one who perished in Mystic Falls in 1864."

Damon looked bewildered and horrified, all at the same time. "But . . . Katherine died in 1764. Not 1864. How could she be sighted?"

Klaus frowned. That didn't sound right. "No, Damon, she perished in a fire beneath the church in Mystic Falls in 1864. Along with countless others of our kind."

Damon shook his head angrily. "I think I'd know, Mr. Doom-and-Gloom. I was there, wasn't I? Now, if you're telling me there's a chance she survived, I need to go find her before you get your hybrid claws into her!"

Klaus lurched toward him, making it across the room in less than a second. He grabbed Damon by the throat and slammed him up against the bar. Behind him, a score of glasses crashed down from the mirrored wall and sprayed glass everywhere. Damon and Klaus paid it no mind, instead choosing to glare at one another.

"Do not presume to think that I've forgotten the real reason why you showed up at my doorstep in 1978, Damon Salvatore," Klaus growled, his eyes flashing. Damon was choking, his sapphire blue eyes burning with hatred.

Damon gasped out, "There's no way Stefan's in Mystic Falls. He wouldn't set foot in that town again, even if he were forced to."

Klaus smirked and then let Damon go, taking a step back. " _We both_ know that isn't true, Damon. _We both_ know you've just been waiting for the chance to go back to your brother and get Katerina out of harm's way. Believe this, the story of the spell Katerina Petrova cast over the Salvatore brothers is a well-known cautionary tale."

"Fine," Damon spat, rubbing his throat. "But don't say I didn't warn you. None of your servants will be able to get anywhere near Katherine the way I could. She's been running from you for 500 years, Klaus. You think she's just going to walk out and hand herself over?"

Klaus whirled around, struggling to contain his anger. He clenched his fists at his sides. He knew what he was going to have to do, but he didn't want to do it. Mystic Falls was most likely full of vervain. A compulsion could be eradicated in Damon in moments.

Could he risk it?

A mental image of his most treasured vision was conjured into his mind and he realized that the risk was worth it, if only for him to never be alone again. If the girl wasn't Katherine and truly was the doppelgänger . . . Well, it was a win-win situation.

Klaus whirled around, wrapping his fingers around Damon's throat again. He pulled him close, looked him directly in the eyes, and compelled him.

"You will go to Mystic Falls and find Katerina Petrova and when you find her, you will bring her to me," he purred out. "If you arrive and discover that it is the doppelgänger, then you will keep an eye on her until such a time as I see fit. You will not fraternize with your brother other than to serve my goals and if he speaks to you, you will forget my name and who sent you to town. When you arrive in Mystic Falls, I want you to cause as much torment and suffering to its people as you can muster in the name of Klaus Mikaelson. For the name of Klaus is but a storm on the sea, followed by blood and misery."

Damon stared back blankly, his irises dilated. "And what of the doppelgänger?"

Klaus's smirk deepened.

"Show her what will happen if she tries to fight her destiny."

He stepped back and watched as Damon fled the room. Klaus wanted to laugh at how weak others were compared to him, an Original, and so he did. He threw his head back in mirth, laughing ever harder when his servant cowered away from him on the floor.

When he was done, he asked the servant, "Anything else?"

"The . . . The truck is here, as is th-the precious cargo," he stammered, his fear thickening his blood and enhancing its aroma in his veins.

Klaus could practically taste it.

The hybrid's smile got as bright as it possibly could be. Finally, everyone was together. It had been awhile, so perhaps he owed his family a little visit.

But first . . .

"How about a snack?" he murmured with a wicked grin. His eyes flashed golden yellow before he beamed forward and sunk his fangs into the throat of his devoted servant.

It felt good to be King.

 **ooo**

 _"Are you sure a spell like that is possible, sister? Surely a spell with such power would have . . . Consequences . . . ?"_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Quick update! I'm not sure if you guys were liking this story yet so I figured it would be okay to update with some actual plot lol. Anyway, please please review. I'm really nervous and have a lot of anxiety. I haven't undertook a story as intricate as this one will be and I really want to know how it's sounding.**

 **As you can see, Elena is different in this story. Everyone is, and the whole plot is mixed up compared to the canon TVD. This is intentional! You will find out why eventually! Stick around. Also, kudos to whoever notices similarities between Stefan's first meeting with Elena compared to the show when Elena met Damon.**

 **Please listen to each Song of the Chapter while you're reading to really get a feel. All songs will come straight from The Vampire Diaries and The Originals soundtracks!**

 **Thank you!**


	3. Nebula

**Song of the Chapter:** _ **"Powerline"**_ **by Today the Moon, Tomorrow the Sun**

* * *

 **Chapter Two - Nebula**

 **ooo**

"Funny how my heart races. Funny how my breathing paces. Funny with just soft whispers in a sea of strangers, we make love without ever touching. Two breathless bodies in a crowded room"

\- Tyler Kent White

 **ooo**

" _Jeremy! Jeremy, come here! Hurry!"_

Elena's insistent, horrified screaming reached Jeremy's ears at exactly 7:00 AM, rousing him from the dead. He tumbled out of his bed and scrambled to the bathroom that joined their bedrooms together. He slammed both doors open behind him and, eyes wild, skidded to a halt in his elder sister's room. He glanced around, searching for the danger that he assumed would be there.

Elena was sitting on the edge of her bed, hair a tousled mess about her arms and her makeup from the night before smeared all over her eyes.

"Can you just . . . Can you just punch me in the dick?" Elena mumbled, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. "Cuz I don't wanna go to school."

Trying not to laugh, Elena studied her brother's face for a reaction. It passed across his visage in stages - from confusion to annoyance. Jeremy grabbed a stuffed animal that was nearby him on the floor and threw it at her as hard as he could.

"First of all," he said angrily, holding up his forefingers, "Fuck you. Okay? Because I was asleep. Second of all, you don't _have_ a dick."

Elena grinned. "That can be changed if it will get me out of going to school."

"Oh, my God," Jeremy said, rolling his eyes and leaving the room. He closed his bedroom door on his side of the bathroom, effectively shutting her out.

Elena stretched her arms out above her head and tried not to think about the fact that those words were the most they'd shared aloud and _not_ through text since the beginning of the Summer. She looked at her iPod dock and sighed. She had a couple hours to get ready for school. She debated going back to sleep and forgoing makeup for the day, but then the events of the night before came rushing back into her mind all at once.

If her assumptions were correct and that kid Stefan was going to her school, then she needed to contour the shit out of her face and get that "D" like every other girl at her school.

Okay, maybe things wouldn't go _that_ far, but still. She needed to look good just in case _certain individuals_ laid eyes upon her.

Elena stood up and walked over to her dresser, digging through the drawers to get some clean underwear. She yawned, wishing she could just crawl back under the covers and never leave again. She hated school and didn't see the point in it. It was just a bunch of underpaid teachers passing out government-printed packets of material that they didn't even understand themselves. The only class she'd ever really enjoyed was History, but if eleventh grade teachers were anything like the tenth grade ones, she knew all she had to look forward to was bookwork and packets until she bled printed words out of her eyes.

As she dressed, she tried not to look at the contusion that was discoloring her collarbones. The last thing she needed was a friendly reminder that last night had ended on the wrong side of a well-aimed empty liquor bottle.

Ignoring the ache, Elena slipped into a black skater skirt and a short-sleeved maroon crop top. She ran her brush through her long dark brown hair, turning to the side to see how long it had grown over the summer. To grow from mid-back to lower back was pretty decent for hair growth, so she smiled and went into the bathroom to "contour the shit out of her face," as she had so eloquently put earlier.

Jeremy came into the bathroom just as Elena was swiping her contour stick along the hollows of her cheek, giving her a scathing look. There was nothing said for a long moment, the only noise coming from Elena's music on her phone. Finally, Elena could handle the tense air no longer.

"You're welcome," Elena said to him with a falsely-sweet smile. "At this rate, you won't even need an alarm clock this year. I'll do the honors."

"You came in way too late last night, Elena," was all he said.

Elena saw his eyes lingering on her clavicles and she immediately grabbed her concealer. She didn't want anyone looking at her like that - like she was some breakable, fragile bird.

In response to his words, Elena said haughtily, "You're not my Dad, so I don't care what you think. I'll come in as late as I want."

Jeremy's eyes darkened and he turned to face her, crossing his arms over his narrow chest.

"Elena, I can't keep covering for you all the time. When you come in at midnight every night, 'she's doing her Summer homework' isn't an excuse that applies anymore," he said. Then, he lowered his voice. "I know you're scared of him, but I can't help you if you won't admit it and ask for help."

After covering up her bruise, Elena went back to contouring and highlighting her face. She didn't respond to Jeremy. She wished she could be honest with him and just tell him that it was _because_ of their Uncle that she never wanted to be at home, but she just couldn't. Any time she tried, her mind immediately dismissed it to spare her the trauma. After the Summer she'd had, admitting that there was a problem with their Uncle being a drunk asshole would be too much to cope with.

Elena ignored her brother and began to work on her eye makeup. Jeremy watched her swiping on her brown and gold eyeshadows, and then he scowled.

"You know what?" he spat icily. "Just forget it."

Frustrated with the incessant tête-à-tête of her brother's hidden disgust of her and her all-consuming guilt over the accident, Elena slammed down her Urban Decay eyeshadow palette and whirled on him.

"Listen, Jeremy, nobody asked you to wake up today and start caring," she hissed. "So just go back to your world of art and Honors classes and leave me the fuck alone!"

Jeremy looked hurt for a moment, but it wasn't long before ire replaced the sentiment. He backed away, shaking his head and unable to speak.

Elena resumed finishing her make-up, feeling her somber disposition begin to smother her.

"At least my eyebrows are on fleek," she sighed to herself twenty minutes later, annoyed at how horribly the day was starting.

Elena made sure her outfit didn't show _too_ much of her stomach and then she went back into her room to put her thigh high socks on. She danced a little bit to the music that was playing on her phone and began packing her backpack.

She froze when she picked up her last year's binder and was immediately confronted by the collage of pictures her sixteen-year-old self had put together for the perfect schoolgirl flair. She frowned. There were all the friends she no longer talked to, staring up at her as if to accuse her of being exactly what she was.

' _A killer . . .'_

Shaking the miserly thoughts from her head, Elena hurriedly stuffed her backpack to the brim with all her supplies and prepared to leave the house early. Jeremy's words had upset her more than she wanted to let on and she just wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

Pulling her hair up into the same messy bun as the previous night since she didn't want to deal with a flatiron, Elena shrugged her arms into her hooded leather jacket, laced up her black combat boots, plugged her headphones into her phone, and walked over to her bedroom door.

She paused.

This was inevitably going to go two ways: A, her Uncle was up and waiting to have a "talk" with her about her constant coming and going every night. Or B, her Uncle was going to have a "talk" with her that reminded her of the trash she was to him. Either way, Elena got the short end of the deal. Why? Because in each instance, her Uncle was sure to win any argument she attempted to have with him. While he had never actually physically harmed her with his own bare hands, Elena wasn't naïve.

There was a first time for everything.

Elena didn't realize that she had been standing with her hand on the doorknob for fifteen minutes until her cell phone began to vibrate. She snapped out of her reverie and looked down at it. It was a text from Vickie.

 **R u goin to school early?**

Elena replied rapidly. **Gonna try. Uncle Asshole might stop me.**

 **Ok well I'll b there in 10 min.**

' _Yes!'_ Elena thought excitedly. At least she wasn't going to have to walk in to school by herself. Mystic Falls was a small town and everyone was bound to have heard about what her Summer had been like.

It wasn't like Mayor Lockwood had hosted a massive wake at his house or anything.

Elena dashed out of her room, going down the stairs as fast as possible. It was light outside but still pretty early, so her chances of her Uncle being awake were luckily slim. She practically skipped to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat for breakfast, hoping she could make it out of the house quickly.

"Good morning, Elena."

Startled, Elena whipped around with her hand still holding the fridge open. She heaved a sigh of relief however when she saw who it was.

"Aunt Jenna," she said with a small smile. "You scared me."

The bottle-redhead laughed slightly as she put on a pot of coffee. "Sorry, honey. Are you excited for school?"

"Not really," Elena said, her attentions returning to the food in the refrigerator. She selected a boiled egg and went to the sink to peel it, leaving her backpack on the floor by the island at the center of the kitchen. "I'm nervous."

"Aw, don't be nervous," Aunt Jenna said, coming to stand by her at the sink. "Your friends will be happy to see you."

"Yeah, right," Elena said, forcing a smile. Aunt Jenna may have been a complacent person, but she was the only person Elena still trusted. "The only friend I have is Vickie."

Aunt Jenna looked at her niece adoringly, rubbing her back affectionately. "It'll be okay. You're gonna have a good day today, I know it."

Elena could only nod in return, finding that any attempts at further conversation were soon to be cut off.

"I hope you don't think you're leaving my house looking like a harlot."

Elena felt anger color her eyes darker as she turned to glower up at her Uncle John.

"This isn't your house," she practically snarled at him. "And I look fine, thanks."

Uncle John kissed his wife good morning and then fixed Elena with a stern gaze.

"I see your attitude followed you out of Summer," he said testily. "What else followed you? The drugs and partying? Your penchant for reckless situations?"

Elena rolled her eyes and shoved her way past him, going to the drawer where the Ziploc bags were kept. She hated her Uncle. Right now, he was being tamer than usual because he wasn't drunk, but that didn't mean that his words didn't hurt. She shoved the boiled egg into the plastic bag and went to grab her backpack.

Uncle John gasped. "Are you seriously wearing that out?!"

"What?" Elena snapped in reply. "There's nothing wrong with what I'm wearing!"

"Yes, there is, Elena! Holy cow!" He gestured to her incredulously, looking almost repulsed. "Your entire stomach is showing! If you lift your arms higher than your chest, your entire breast will pop out from under that shirt!"

Elena nearly burst out laughing. That was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. In reality, her outfit was only showing a couple of inches of her stomach and the crop top stopped at her waist. Her Uncle was being stuffy and absurd.

"I literally don't care to argue with you today, Uncle John," Elena said, her eyes challenging him. "I need to go. Goodbye."

She turned to walk away but cried out in pain when he grabbed her shoulder roughly. His fingers pressed into her the tender bruise on her chest and man, did it _hurt_. She whipped around, practically spouting fire out of every pore on her body.

"You will not walk away from me," Uncle John said quietly, his blue eyes flashing with danger. He pointed a parental finger at her, his other hand still holding onto her shoulder. "I am in authority over you, and you will listen to what I say. Because if you don't, I will take your precious keyboard and smash it into a thousand pieces."

Elena tried not to feel slightly panicked. As they spoke, her piano keyboard was carefully hidden underneath her bed for that exact reason: she didn't want him to get drunk at any point while she wasn't home and go upstairs to steal the most precious thing she had. Nobody besides her family knew that Elena loved to sing and though she wanted desperately to stand up for herself right now, she didn't want to lose the only thing she had left to keep her sane.

Uncle John dug his fingers in deeper as if to punctuate his point, causing Elena to wince and lose her breath.

"That . . . _Hurts_ ," Elena said through clenched teeth, the intense throbbing pain reverberating down through her body as his fingers held her in place. She was so livid that she could hardly see straight. The only thing keeping her from lashing out and striking him across the face was her fear that he might snap and reciprocate. He had never actually hit her before and she didn't want to find out if he had the balls to do it.

"What you don't seem to understand, Elena, is that you can't just _do_ whatever you want," he said, his voice still dangerously quiet. "I'm a member of the town Council. Do you know what that means?"

Elena held her head high, trying not to collapse from the strain of keeping the tears of pain out of her eyes. Her chest was in agony. She didn't care to hear what her Uncle had to say. He'd said it to her so many times that she was beginning to think he'd tattoo it on her if given the chance.

"It means that we are under scrutiny every second of every day. It means that everything that you do is being watched and recorded and if I choose to run for mayor at any point in time, the way you present yourself will be taken into account. How do you think it looks, huh?" He waited for a moment, obviously under the impression that his words were sinking in when in all actuality, all Elena could hear was her collarbones begging to be released.

Uncle John continued, "It looks like I don't know how to properly parent you, Elena! I didn't ask to be saddled with two teenage children with no prior understanding of discipline or decorum!"

Elena held his gaze stonily for as long as she possibly could, only receiving reprieve when Jeremy entered the kitchen. He stood there, mouth curled in derisive disbelief.

"Really? _Saddled?_ " Jeremy said, shaking his head in offense. "Thanks, Uncle John."

Uncle John finally let go when Jeremy, his favorite for some strange reason, turned his back on him and strode purposefully towards the front door.

"Jeremy, wait!" he said, going after him.

Elena looked up, unsurprised to see Aunt Jenna furiously scrubbing the counters as though she were alone in the room. Elena watched her for a moment, wondering for the umpteenth time since the accident how a woman could be so weak and feeble-minded to allow her husband to constantly verbally abuse her niece. Then, the silently fuming seventeen-year-old stormed out of the kitchen, sidestepping her Uncle John on her way.

"Hey! Don't you dare leave this house looking like that, Elena!" he shouted angrily, his hands on his hips.

Elena didn't answer him, putting in her headphones and turning up her music to block him out. Just before she scooted out the door, she turned around and showed him both of her middle fingers before the door swung shut with a loud _SLAM!_

Feeling entirely satisfied, Elena Gilbert set out for her first day of school.

 **ooo**

" _Hey, biiiiiitch_!"

Elena's otherwise-troubled facial expression melted away instantly as she set eyes upon her best friend outside the school. Vickie waved enthusiastically to her, hopping onto her skateboard and rolling down the sidewalk to meet her halfway. Elena hugged her tightly, as though she hadn't seen her in ages.

"What's up, Vickie?" Elena said, smiling from ear to ear. Sometimes, she was so grateful for Vickie that it wasn't even funny. If not for her, Elena didn't know if she would have made it through the summer.

"Just waiting for doomsday to start," Vickie joked, holding her board under her arm. "Your makeup looks good. Nice contour. And I love your outfit!"

"Thanks," Elena laughed, linking her arm through Vickie's. They walked toward the school, their eyes scanning the overcrowded lawn. People were staring at them, no doubt surprised to see the once-popular Elena Gilbert with someone like Vickie Donovan.

"Lawl, I think everyone's talking about us," Vickie pointed out as they went.

Elena looked around, seeing that she was right. People were openly staring at them, leaning toward one another to speak in hushed whispers. A couple of people even laughed, their surreptitious chuckles going soft when Elena and Vickie passed them by. Elena felt annoyed by it. Many of these people had been her friends once. Now, they were looking at her as though she were the butt of some joke.

"I don't care what anyone thinks," Elena said dismissively. "You're my best friend and if they don't like it, they can suck it."

" _Go suck a diiiiiiick_ ," Vickie sang in a high-pitched voice, causing both girls to fall into a fit of giggles. They changed course, heading around the building to go to the Stoner's Pit. Elena could see quite a few kids hanging out there, some of them on their boards, some on the picnic table, and some standing near the obnoxious 70's style Volkswagen van that had been parked there for years.

"Hey, Vickie," came the chorus almost as soon as the girls walked up. A lot of kids looked surprised to see Elena there, but nobody really said anything. Elena and Vickie went to stand in the corner of the graffiti wall, Vickie sharing a cigarette with Elena as though it weren't completely illegal for someone at the age of 17 to smoke.

"Today's going to blow," Elena said, blowing the nicotine-rich smoke off to the side. "I hate school so much."

"Tell me about it," Vickie agreed, setting her skateboard on the ground and placing her backpack on top of it. She glanced down at her phone, no doubt checking a text from her fuckboy.

Elena wasn't exactly discreet about how much she disliked Vickie's bed-partners.

"Is that Tyler?" Elena asked, her cigarette placed nonchalantly between her middle and forefingers on her right hand.

"Yeah," Vickie said. "He wants me to meet him in the parking lot behind the school."

Elena sighed. She knew exactly how this was going to go down.

"Vickie, you really shouldn't keep playing into his whole thing. He doesn't want to be your boyfriend." She took a drag on her cigarette, a sympathetic look crossing her face. "He just wants to fuck you without the strings of a relationship."

"No, he doesn't," Vickie protested, typing out a text as she spoke. "He just . . . He's under a lot of pressure at home right now with his dad and everything, so he wants to wait."

Elena deadpanned. "His dad is running for Mayor again, not undergoing kidney dialysis. Vickie, come on."

Vickie just smiled at Elena, patting her cheek fondly. "You're cute when you worry about me, best friend. Everything is fine."

"You're fine with being used like that?" Elena asked, feeling worried. She tossed her cigarette butt aside. She didn't want to get into an argument, but she knew exactly how much of a douche bag Tyler Lockwood was. Elena was more than sure Vickie was nothing but a plaything for him.

"I'll see you later, Elena," Vickie said, reaching down for her skateboard and her backpack.

"Aw, you're making me walk inside alone?" Elena whined.

"Soz," Vickie said with a sweet smile and she started walking away. "You look fierce though, so if everyone's staring at you, that's why."

"I hate you," Elena sighed before she waved her friend off and left the Stoner's Pit. Then, someone walked up to her, offering her a joint for enough money to buy himself lunch. She handed him the money and smoked the entire thing, zoning out while she tried to sort through her mixed emotions about the previous night and the upcoming day. She knew that it was going to be difficult, but the sooner she just went inside and dealt with it, the better.

She felt the high taking over, calming her down considerably and she smiled to herself. Thank God weed existed.

When Elena walked inside, she took her headphones out and forced herself to ignore everyone and everything. Everyone was staring at her, no doubt because of her new look. Last year, she had been more of a conservative girl, always wearing jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Now here she was, waltzing into Mystic Falls High School in a belly-baring crop top, miniskirt, and thigh high socks.

Pushing through gaggles of excitable students all happy to be back from a long, fun Summer, Elena went to her locker. At Mystic Falls, you had the same locker every year, so it was easy to figure out where she needed to be. She opened it and saw that her schedule had been placed inside it. She glanced over the paper. She had Algebra II, Astronomy, History, English, and Web Design in that order, and she couldn't be more displeased by it.

' _God, I fucking hate school_ ,' she thought, forcing herself not to sigh in annoyance.

"Hey."

Elena jumped at the sudden voice, turning to look at the person who had approached her. She saw chocolate brown eyes, long black hair, and mocha-colored skin and she immediately felt exasperated. She did _not_ want to deal with this issue five minutes into the first day of Hell.

Sorry . . .

The first day of _school._

"Hey, Bonnie," Elena muttered, continuing to put her things in her locker. She tried not to think abut the fact that she hadn't spoken to Bonnie since the day after the accident, recognizing the importance of at least hearing what her former friend had to say.

"Look," Bonnie said. "I'm sorry I didn't back you up at the party that night."

"I don't want to talk about it," Elena replied, clutching her binder close as she shoved her backpack into the locker.

Bonnie went on as if she hadn't heard her: "I was drunk and all I knew was that you and Matt were fighting over the future. I just didn't want to be a part of it because I felt like it wasn't my business. Maybe if I had been there for you, you wouldn't have had to have your parents pick you up that night. Maybe then they'd have stayed one more night at the cabin and -"

Elena cut her off. "I _said_ I don't want to fucking talk about it!"

Bonnie looked shocked but she stopped apologizing, her glossed lips pressed together in a thin line. The petite girl hugged her books close and held Elena's gaze firmly.

"I'm still your friend, Elena," Bonnie whispered, mindless of the people who were staring at them. "No one deserves to go through this alone."

Elena didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say or how to feel. Truth was, she didn't blame Bonnie for any of it.

She blamed herself.

Just then, Jeremy stopped near them, peering down at his sister in alarm.

"Elena, why are your eyes all red?"

Completely shunning Bonnie and Jeremy both, Elena went the opposite direction that they had both come. She really didn't want to hear Jeremy's lecture. She was older than him and she could do whatever she wanted.

It wasn't like their parents were gonna ground her or anything.

Jeremy caught up with her, dragging her into the nearest room.

"The boy's bathroom, Jeremy?" Elena complained, wrenching herself out of his grasp as soon as they were in the room. "Really?"

"Smoking weed, Elena?" Jeremy shot back after checking to make sure they were alone. " _Really_?"

Elena turned to look at herself in the mirror, pulling her hair out of its bun and adjusting the thick tresses so that they spilled down her back. She was doing it mostly out of nerves at being caught, not because she actually wanted her hair down. Jeremy's eyes were boring holes into the side of her face and she could practically taste his disapproval in the air.

"I can do whatever I want, Jer," Elena finally told him. "Like I said earlier - you're not my Dad."

Jeremy scowled. "Dad would be so disappointed in you, Elena, and you know it. He'd be saying the same thing I am right now."

Elena felt her guilt growing by the second, which in turn caused her rage to flare. She was sick and tired of being reminded of the fact that her brother now considered her the worst person in the world. She wasn't going to put up with it anymore. She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, mussing it up, and then she whipped around to her brother.

"Guess what, Jeremy?" she hissed, her brown eyes a veritable fire. "Dad. Isn't. _Here_."

Jeremy physically deflated, the anger fading rapidly from his eyes. Elena left the room, tired of always having this conversation with him. He just needed to accept that this was who his sister was now. The old Elena was gone and unfortunately, she was never coming back.

Leaving her brother behind, Elena nearly ran smack dab into the broad chest of someone very familiar to her. She gazed up at the person, embarrassed at having not paid attention to where she was going and relieved at the fact that she at least looked good that day. Because standing right in front of her was none other than her mysterious stranger from the previous night.

Stefan smiled and under the daylight, it stole the very breath from her lungs.

"Hey there, jacket buddy," he said, chuckling at the fact that they were both wearing essentially the same hooded leather jacket. Then, he smiled in bewilderment. "Is this the . . . Men's room?"

Elena wanted to shave her head and keel over. Just her luck. Running into a hot guy while walking out of the wrong bathroom on the first day of school. Fuck's sake, she was one accidental silent fart in class away from a _Seventeen Magazine "_ Traumarama."

She gaped open-mouthed at the door for a second, looking at the white sign that plainly depicted a male figure and very clearly said " _MEN'S ROOM_."

". . . Yes, um . . ." She searched for an excuse. "I was just, um . . I-I was just . . ."

He raised one eyebrow and she admired his clothing and overall look. His ash brown hair was disheveled on the top, obviously styled on purpose to stand upright in such a bedheaded way, contrasting sharply with his thick, dark eyebrows. He was wearing black skinny jeans, a grey top with a V-neck that plunged down to his sternum, combat boots, and a leather jacket with an ebony-colored cloth hood. He looked her up and down, still waiting for her explanation as if it were the most important thing in the world.

She settled for a timid smile and a shaky breath. "It's a long story."

His nodded, his faint smile causing him to look distantly amused. Elena decided she wanted to get out of the way of this extremely gorgeous boy's smoldering gaze, so she made as if to go.

"Just . . ." she said softly, for he had tried to go past her on the same side. She laughed slightly, feeling jittery and as though she hadn't smoked an entire joint in ten minutes flat. He chuckled, too, and they both went the same way again, nearly bumping into each other.

' _Good Lord, this is like a shitty Disney movie_ ,' Elena thought, astonished at fact that life was really dealing her some shitty cards. Why couldn't their second meeting have been wonderful and embarrassment-free?

Stefan stepped aside in a gentlemanly way, holding his hand outward to signal for her to move past. Wanting nothing more than to hide in a hole, Elena moved by him with a hastily-whispered thank you. She hurried down the hall in the direction of her math class, the image of him burned into her retinas. As she rounded the corner, she flipped her long hair back over her shoulder and chanced a glance backward. He was staring at her intently, like a hunter watches his prey. Elena felt a chill go down her spine and she couldn't decided whether it was a good chill or not.

Elena didn't know how she felt about the guy since she didn't know him that wall, but even she couldn't deny that there was something weird that she felt when she was around this kid. She hadn't been able to forget his voice when she went to sleep, and now she was having a tough time forgetting about those eyes . . . Those eyes that were the color of emeralds nestled in flame.

It would seem this school year was going to be a little less suck-ass than she thought it would be.

Outside the school, watching the doors carefully with eyes the color of frosty azure, was the reason why Elena Gilbert was so, _so_ wrong.

 **ooo**

" _Are you sure we should be doing this, sister? I don't know, it just seems . . . Wrong."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: There was Chapter 3! I hope you're not too bored of the story so far. It will start picking up soon, don't worry. I'm trying to introduce all the characters in a fluid way while keeping it similar to the pilot episode of the show. Anyone notice how Elena and Jeremy have basically switched personalities in this story compared to the show? Hue hue hue.**

 **Basically Elena's a bitchy smartass, Jeremy is a good two-shoes who wants to be "responsible," Vickie is the same, Bonnie and Elena aren't friends right now but Bonnie is just as emotional as she is in the show, Stefan is the same so far, Uncle John is an alcoholic who is dangerously close to becoming physically abusive and he hates Elena for some unknown reason we have yet to find out, and Aunt Jenna is a very passive woman who is married to John and turns a blind eye to everything (though whether it is out of fear or agreement, is yet to be discovered!). Also, yes, Elena's hair is longer in this than in the show, but that's okay. I like super long hair.**

 **Anyway, please stick around! My stories have a tendency to get really wild and severely rated M lol so prepare for that.**

 **Please review so I know how I'm doing!**

 **Also, I added a Song of the Chapter to the Prologue. Please listen to each Song of the Chapter while reading to really get a feel! In every chapter, any time I mention music and don't say who she is listening to or who is playing, it will always be the Song of the Chapter unless otherwise stated (i.e. when she was getting ready for school, she was listening to the Song of the Chapter). At the end of the story, I will upload a Soundtrack list so that you can always have _Novis Dolor_ with you.**


	4. Pulsar

**There may be typos! I will fix them ASAP**

 **WARNINGS: This chapter contains a severe instance of descriptive child abuse. Be warned.**

 **Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Sacrilege" -**_ **Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

* * *

 **Chapter Three - Pulsar**

 **ooo**

"All the powers in the universe are already ours. It is we who have put our hands before our eyes and cry that it is dark."

\- Swami Vivekananda

 **ooo**

Elena sat down in the very back of her Algebra II class, trying not to let herself become too aware of the fact that she was in class when she really just wanted to skip class and run off. She took the southeast corner, slamming her binder down and sighing heavily in annoyance. The class was slowly filling up with people she'd known all of her life, each of them casting furtive, wide-eyed glances as they came in. Elena had known to expect some stares, but for everyone to be gawking at her like she was some sideshow circus freak was just gratuitous.

"Are you guys gonna keep staring at me without saying anything, orrrr . . . ?" she finally said, feeling her anxiety levels rising by the second. Now every single person was looking at her, faces shocked at her sudden outburst.

When no one responded, Elena just shook her head in disgust.

"Then turn the fuck around and continue to be the sheep you all are. Thanks." With an acerbic smile, she took out her cell phone and began to text Vickie, the only person who seemed to keep her grounded anymore.

Elena was already over this year, and it hadn't even started.

Once the class seemed to be full and the bell had rung, the teacher got up and began explaining the year's syllabus. Elena tuned her out almost immediately, her eyes sliding to the right to gaze out the window at the lush green grass on campus. She saw cars going by, the sunlight glinting off of their paint, and she wished she could drive away in one of her own.

' _All I'd need is my keyboard and some money,'_ she thought wistfully. ' _Then I'd get out of here and never come back . . .'_

As the student ahead of her passed back a textbook, the classroom door swung open.

"Oh my God, I'm _so_ sorry I'm late!" Heels click-clacked their way across the linoleum, each step reverberating deep within Elena's soul.

Elena forced herself to stare at the back of the girl ahead of her's head, her heart beating rapidly. If there was one person who had hurt her the worst this summer, it was the owner of those heels.

"You must be Caroline Forbes, I take it?" the teacher said, smiling. "It's okay, just try not to make it a habit this year."

Caroline took the remaining empty seat, located directly beside Elena's, and smiled brightly at the teacher. Her sunny disposition made Elena want to vomit.

"I won't, Ms. Johnson, don't worry!" she trilled, setting her bright pink Betsey Johnson purse on the top of her desk. She glanced around at everyone, whispering hello's to friends she hadn't seen since the year before, and then her wandering eyes rested on Elena. Her grin melted away like ice in the dead of July.

"Hi, Elena," Caroline said, her overly-bright. "How was your summer?"

Elena wanted to explode. How dare she ask her that, as if she didn't already know? She gathered her wits about her and turned in her chair to face Caroline. The Gilbert girl ignored the fact that everyone was staring at them, knowing why they were. There was no doubt in her young mind that the entire school was completely aware of the status of their former friendship. Mystic Falls was a big town, but word definitely got around in a place with one high school and no mall.

"Hi, Caroline!" Elena practically shouted in an excessively-friendly voice. She raised her eyebrows as high as they would go and widened her mouth into the most obnoxious smile she could muster. "My summer was fan-fucking-tastic. Thanks for asking! How was yours?"

Caroline blinked, visibly affronted. She had been friends with Elena since childhood, so Elena knew Caroline was aware of how she truly felt about her. She ran her fingers through her carefully-curled golden locks and allowed her make-up caked face to crease into an expression of displeasure.

"Girls," Ms. Johnson warned, looking uncomfortable. "I'd really like to start my class . . ."

"No need to be rude, Elena," Caroline said, punctuating the syllables of Elena's name with a sneer and completely disregarding the teacher. She sat up straight in her seat, smoothing out the front of her pale pink blazer. "Some people just want to be nice to you. You should just accept it. You're not exactly in the position to turn down friends."

Elena clenched her fists in her lap and struggled to remain calm. "Thanks for the advice, Caroline! You were such a great friend to me last year. Too bad I can't say the same about this summer." She snapped her fingers sardonically, her eyes twinkling with carefully-contained anger.

Caroline's jaw dropped and it was like the two girls weren't even in class. She scoffed, looking Elena up and down with astonishment.

"Ugh!" she scowled. "How _dare_ you? I tried to be your friend this summer! We _all_ did! Everybody and their _mother_ tried to be there for you, but you just pushed us all away like we were . . . Like we were _trash_ or something." She was spluttering her words, waving her hands about.

Elena said nothing for a long moment, all of the events of the summer rushing back to her at once. She could feel her peers' eyes on her, waiting on the edge of their seats to hear what Elena was going to say. Elena knew what she wanted to say, but wasn't quite sure if she was ready to go there.

One quick look at the look of utter "I-did-nothing-wrong-you're-just-a-horrible-person-Elena" on Caroline's face made up her mind for her.

"Were you trying to be _there for me_ when you fucked Matt?" Elena hissed, using air quotations to drive her point home. "Because if so, you need some lessons on friendship because that was a really shitty way of being my friend after the accident."

Caroline's eyes went wide as students around the room began to gasp and whisper. Elena smiled smugly. Caroline deserved for everyone to know the truth about her. Everyone needed to know exactly what her ex-boyfriend who claimed to love her so much had done with her so-called best friend one week after Elena's entire life blew up. Elena didn't care how immature or petty she had been by saying that in front of everyone - in fact, she relished in the hurt and incensed expression on Caroline Forbes' Barbie face.

The blonde seemed truly speechless, so Ms. Johnson took her opportunity and clapped her hands once to garner everyone's attention.

"Okay, everyone, let's settle down," she tittered nervously. "I'm sure everyone had a pretty wild summer, so why don't we try to wind down and jump into your Junior year with a more positive attitude? All right? Okay, so . . ."

Elena tuned her out again.

A wild summer?

Fuck her, and fuck everyone else.

 **ooo**

"Vickie, no!" Elena laughed, grabbing her best friend's hand to stop her from leaving their place on the grass. "You are _not_ going!"

Vickie giggled. "Aw, come on, Elena! He wants to see me, and I want to see him!"

"Yeah, but we all know _why_ ," Elena snorted, dragging her back down to the ground to sit by her. She took a gulp of her Pepsi, handing the cold can to Vickie. "He just wants a lunchtime quickie."

"Oh, my gosh, Elena," Vickie said with a roll of her eyes. "Why would he want that, since you know so much about him? Go ahead and tell me."

Elena picked at her cardboard Cafeteria pizza, shrugging. "I dunno, I just can sense it. He's the captain of the football team, Vickie. He just wants to be able to tell his teammates that he scored."

Vickie sighed heavily. "Look, I _know_ he has a reputation, but to be honest . . . He makes me happy."

Elena didn't say anything. She couldn't. Not if she truly loved her friend. Who was she to stand in the way of her happiness?

"But fine," Vickie said. "If you really want me to not go, I won't. I'll just see if he wants to hang out after school. Anyway, though, I have to tell you what happened during second period today . . ."

Vickie grabbed Elena's snack size bag of chips, curling her legs beneath her and munching away as she talked. Elena listened to her while scrolling through Facebook on her phone, finding her mind continuously straying toward what had happened with Caroline that summer.

Matt Donovan had dated Elena for over five years only to end their relationship like a spaceship spiraling down to earth in a fiery inferno. He'd cheated on her with her best friend Caroline, and hadn't seemed to care one iota about how it would make Elena feel. In fact, both he and Caroline had tried to defend themselves by blaming Elena for it, telling her that "her depression pushed them into each other's arms." Elena didn't like to think about it because it made her stress levels start going through the room and when that happened, she just wanted to turned to other methods of control . . .

Elena glanced over at her backpack, which she had brought with her to lunch. Inside the pocket, she knew she had pills leftover from the last party she'd gone to to buy some. If her former life didn't stop hounding her down, she was afraid she might take them just to forget all of it.

Vickie still chattering on, Elena's eyes wandered upward and beyond her backpack and stopped there. Across the campus lawn, past groups of kids hanging out during lunch and working on projects and such, Stefan was standing against a tree. He was leaning his shoulder againstit nonchalantly, hands in the pockets of his jacket, his hood up over half of his head so that his hair spilled out and up in its trademark stylish manner. Elena's heart skipped a beat when he lifted his eyes from the book he was reading and locked with hers.

Elena turned around quickly, embarrassed at having been caught staring, and Vickie immediately stopped talking. Her smiled grew.

"I knew it," she smirked.

Elena looked puzzled. "Huh? Knew what?"

"That you'd be into the new kid," Vickie accused, tickling her side a little bit. "As soon as I saw him in my first period Anatomy class, I was like 'oh em gee, he is _so_ Elena's type.'"

Elena flipped her off, stuck her tongue out, and then stole her chips back. "Whatever, Vick. I don't even know what you're talking about. I was just looking around and saw him by the trees; that's all."

Vickie merely beamed at her knowingly. "Uh-huh. And I don't suppose you were aware of the fact that you guys are wearing matching jackets?"

"Nope," Elena lied. She didn't know why she felt so modest. She supposed it was because her only boyfriend had been Matt and when she really thought about it, she didn't know the first thing about boys, let alone about how to act in regards to someone as attractive as Stefan.

"Don't be ashamed, Elena," Vickie teased, pulling out her cell phone. "Stefan Salvatore is like, a prodigy. And if he's looking at you, you're lucky. Not to mention, he's like, _super_ hot. Model-status."

Elena felt a blush heating up on her cheeks and she set her phone down on the grass. "He's staring at me?" She couldn't hide her smile.

Vickie nooded enthusiastically. "Yeah, he is! I mean, he's holding like, a book or something. But he's definitely looking over it at you. With those green eyes . . ."

Elena slapped her friend on the arm as if Stefan could hear everything they were saying, nevermind the fact that he was more than 20 yards away and there was no possible way he could. She tried to stop herself from blushing but was unable to, feeling her skin prickle as the mortification spread over her entire body. Because when she chanced a glance over her shoulder, Stefan Salvatore was indeed staring at her, that faint smile she'd come to expect from him ghosting across his handsome, angular features.

"Jesus fuck, Elena, you're soooooo red right now!" Vickie guffawed harder than she had in a while, her eyes streaming with tears as she pointed at Elena.

"Oh, my God, shut _up_!" Elena laughed, hiding her face behind her hands. "Vickie, you're so mean!"

Vickie's laughter slowly tapered off, her finger wiping away tears. "I'm just giving you shit, Elena. I know how things are. You aren't ready for another guy to come in your life."

Elena nodded, finishing off her bag of chips. "You're right. I think I need more time." Then, her mouth curved up into a half-smile. "But there's no reason why he can't be eye candy!"

They fell into another bout of girlish giggles, both of them sneaking glances behind Elena at Stefan. He was now looking down at him book, smiling that same faint smile. Elena knew he was probably finding something he was reading funny, but she still couldn't help but be scared he might have heard what they were saying. She knew it wasn't possible, but still . . . She felt embarrassed.

"Why did you say he was a prodigy, bee-tee-dubs?" Elena asked, rummaging through her friend's purse for a cigarette. She looked around for any campus aides before lighting it, mindless of the nearby students looking at her in shock. Elena Gilbert had always been a good-two-shoes - not a smoker. She supposed it was startling for evryone to see how much different she was after only three months. She didn't care, though.

"Because he is," Vickie explained, leaning back on her elbows and closing her eyes. She tilted her face up to the sun, catching the warmth on her high cheekbones. "His family is."

"How?" Elena crossed her legs in the grass and blew smoke out from between her lips.

"The Salvatore family is one of the Founding Families, Elena," Vickie said, giving her a strange look. "We learned that in like, fourth grade."

"Oh . . ." Elena snuck one more glance at Stefan, but was dismayed to see that he was walking away, towards the school building. "I guess I just forgot. I always remember the Forbes family because of Bitch-oline."

Vickie snorted. "Lawl. Bitch-oline."

"You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know." Vickie yawned. "Anyway, the only Salvatore in town is his uncle, and I guess he must have moved here. Maybe with his parents, or something?"

Elena nodded. She didn't know much about the Salvatores; all she knew was their family was the namesake of the Salvatore Boarding House over on the other side of town. She'd never been into it, but she'd passed it once or twice. It was a ridiculously large, extravagant mansion in Victorian-style with dark brown paint and a lot of windows. As she continued to smoke, she marveled at how mysterious Stefan Salvatore was.

Or maybe she just thought he was really attractive . . .

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Vickie stood up.

"We'd better get going," she said, glancing down at her phone clock. "By the way, did you still want me to get you weed?"

Elena nodded as she stood up. "Uncle Asshole's been on a bender every night this week, so it'll keep me chill. Can you get me like . . . Three nugs? I'll pay you later today."

"Yeah," Vickie said, gesturing over her shoulder with her thumb at the Stoner Pit. "I'll go over there and get you some, then I'll meet you at the Pit at the end of the day."

"'Kaaaay," Elena sang, and the two of them set off in opposite directions - Elena for the B building, which housed all of the Literature and Arts classes, and Vickie for the main building for her math class.

Just then, her cell phone began to vibrate. She glanced down and saw a text from Vickie.

 **I almost forgot - wanna party tonight? Tyler's throwing a Back to School kickback in the woods.**

Elena thought for a moment. She was pretty sure everyone would be there . . . Everyone that she despised, anyway. But parties were always fun. Plus, it would get her out of the house. She snuck out every night anyway, so she might as well do it for a reason. The thick, tree-studded forest that surrounded the entire town had always provided fun times and awesome parties, so . . . Why the Hell not?

 **I'm down!** she replied.

 **Cool cuz I'm inviting Stefan for you.** Vickie sent a seprate text with a winking face emoticon and then said, **You're welcome, lover.**

Elena couldn't even reply.

She couldn't tell if she was nervous or excited.

Elena walked into her History class, her mind dancing with all the possible scenarios of conversations with Stefan that could happen later that night.

"Afternoon," the teacher said as she walked in. He was sitting at the desk, poring over some book that looked older than dirt and when Elena took a second look at him, he looked rather young for a History teacher. With dirty blonde hair and sparkling slate blue eyes, he appeared to be a little more present in the mind than the other government-following lambs she was forced to call teachers.

"Hi," Elena said, feeling for the first time that day that she might actually get some learning done. She chose a seat at the back of the room as usual, ignoring the stares she got. She knew it was because of her clothes, but she didn't care. She hadn't gotten any warnings from the dress code police, so she was going to milk her look for as long as she could.

She sat down just as Stefan walked into the room and she began to blush on reflex. He smiled at her, a quick flash of his pearly white teeth, and then the ghost-smile was back. He was wearing his black backpack on one shoulder, his hand holding the strap, and when he came to the desk beside her, he reached up to push his hood back and off. He pointed down at the desk.

"Mind if I sit next to you?"

Elena nodded jerkily, her fingers beginning to tremble with the nerves. She hurriedly hid them in her lap, concerned that he might see her shyness as something unattractive. She gave him a shaky smile and then looked down at her backpack on the floor. She knew she must look weird, just gazing at the floor, but her heart was beating way too fast and she felt like a balloon was filling her chest.

' _He's . . . So . . . Hot . . .'_ she thought to herself in an imaginatively-wheezing voice. Her palms were sweating, she was that affected by this situation.

Stefan sat down, facing forward and getting his things out of his backpack. Elena watched him through her peripherals, finding a strange interest in how fluid his movements were. For some reason, she wondered if he was a dancer of some sort. It was almost like he didn't make any noise in anything, not even in breathing.

Okay, now she was just borderline idolizing him. She needed to stop. Like, now.

As the class finished filling up, the teacher continued to read his book for a couple of minutes after the bell rang. All around them, kids talked amiably with one another about different things, making Elena feel a bit pressured to talk to Stefan since they were the only ones _not_ conversing with anybody. She scoured her mind for something sarcastic or witty to say that would showcase her personality, but she just couldn't settle on anything that she didn't think made her sound dumb.

Thankfully, he broke the ice for her.

"So I saw a picture of you in one of the glass cases in the Honors Hall," he said, his head swiveling to the right so he could eye her intently.

"R-Really?" she stammered. "I was a good student last year . . ."

"And you don't think you will be this year?" he chuckled.

"More like I don't _want_ to be," Elena said, finding a little more courage. She relaxed in her seat, scooting down low enough to put her feet on the bottom rung of the chair in front of her.

Stefan opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the teacher standing up and clearing his throat.

"Welcome to American History, kids," he said, turning to the chalkboard and beginning to scrawl something in large letters along the top.

 _C - I - V - I - L . . . W - A - R_

"The Civil War," the teacher said. "Happened from 1761 to 1765. Who can tell me about it?"

As some of the students began raising their hands, Elena felt a tiny nag at the back of her mind. She felt a bit weird. Almost like . . . Almost like something didn't quite sound right . . . In fact, she was pretty sure the teacher was wrong.

Without being able to stop herself, her hand shot up. She stared at her own hand in the air for a moment, surprised at herself for caring, and then the teacher called on her.

"Yes?" he said. Everyone in class turned around, obviously as surprised that Elena had words to say, too.

Feeling slightly nervous, Elena looked over at Stefan as though he could offer support, and then she looked back at the teacher.

"Wasn't the Civil War from _18_ 61 - _18_ 65?" she asked, her voice faltering slightly.

The teacher frowned, shaking his head. "America was found in the 1600s. Why would the Civil War happen that late? Slavery was abolished in the late 1700s."

Elena's face screwed up in complete confusion. _None_ of that sounded correct.

"Uhhh, no . . . That's wrong," she said, sitting up straight in her seat. "I'm pretty sure America was founded in 1776 . . ."

"1676," a student corrected, regarding Elena with slight amusement, as though she were on some sort of drug.

Elena opened her mouth to protest, but then a bunch of _other_ kids chimed in, agreeing that Elena was wrong. By the time they were all done, Elena was so mortified that she felt her throat aching with the desire to cry.

Well, almost. Elena never cried; what she did was get angry.

Rage flaring up, she lashed out with a, "Whatever. Fuck you guys. I don't even care about this shit anyway."

Everyone fell silent and Elena felt even _more_ embarrassed. This just couldn't get any worse. She crossed her arms over her chest and sunk even lower in her seat, trying to put her best "I-hate-everyone" expression to save at least _some_ face in front of Stefan so he wouldn't think she was infantile.

"It's okay," the teacher said, offering her a gentle smile that made the edges of his eyes crinkle. "Just a harmless mistake. What's your name?"

"Elena," she mumbled in reply, keeping her eyes on the desk in front of her. She knew she had been a poor sport, but she was so mad and ashamed that she didn't want to admit it. "Elena Gilbert."

He peered at her curiously for a moment. "Ah, you're from one of the Founding Families . . . Well, class, maybe she knows some secrets of history that none of us may ever know. This country was built on secrets, you know. Now, the Civil War . . ."

The talking from the teacher faded away as Elena's mind went into anxiety-mode, replaying her shortcomings over and over in her mind. She wished she could let it go, but her mind wouldn't let her. All she could think about was everyone telling her how wrong she was even though she firmly believed that _she_ was right, and how stupid everyone must now think she was. But if everyone including a teacher with years of schooling was telling her she was wrong . . . Well, then she just had to accept it. She just wished that Stefan wasn't in this class to witness her imminent downfall.

Speaking of Stefan, he seemed to be having some issues. During her internal panic attack, she could see out of the side of her range of vision, she could see him shifting in his seat repeatedly. He couldn't seem to sit still for long than a minute, tapping his pencil, mussing up his hair to make it even _more_ wild, or shaking his leg like a drug addict with withdrawals. Finally, he leaned over while the teacher had his back turned, and Elena looked at him in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his heavy brows shadowing his apple-green eyes with concern for her.

Elena nearly started laughing. _He_ was asking _her_ if she was okay?

"Uhhh . . ." She had never told anyone of her problems with anxiety, not even before the summer. She'd always experienced panic attacks when pressures from school got to be too much, but she had always felt too embarrassed to tell her family and friends. To tell Stefan would most likely serve to make her feel _more_ mortified, so . . . She resolved to lie.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Why?"

He shook his head, appearing troubled. "I just thought . . . Nevermind." He smiled disarmingly and went back to looking at the front.

Okay, well _that_ was weird . . . Elena had always been excellent at hiding things. How had he been able to tell something was wrong with her? She felt a tiny chill run up her arms and she wondered if maybe they just had some sort of connection?

As soon as she thought it, she struck the thought from her mind. No reason to get her hopes up for something that might never be. If Matt could cheat on her so easily after years of being in love, then there had to be something wrong with her. Somebody like Stefan would never - _could never_ \- like a girl like her.

Feeling sad all-of-the-sudden, Elena allowed herself to retreat into a safe place in her mind. A place where all that existed was her music, and all she had to think about was the lyrics and notes on the piano. Whenever her anxiety got this bad, all she needed to do was smoke some weed, zone out, and start playing music in her room. The sooner school was out for the day, the sooner she could rush home and do that.

Finally, the bell rang for the end of class and everyone immediately started packing up. Elena snapped out of her self-induced reverie, hastily packing up her things so she could hit her second-to-last class of the day. As she did, she noticed Stefan lingering behind.

"All right everyone, my name is Mr. Saltzman, for future reference," the teacher said as students began to file toward the door and out into the hall. "Make sure you pick what topic you want to write your term papers on! Can be wars, Presidents, disease, even clothing. I really don't care."

Elena gave Stefan a small smile and followed him out the door, but was stopped by the teacher as she went.

"Oh, Elena, can I talk to you?" he asked.

Elena paused and so did Stefan, piquing Elena's curiosity a little bit more than whatever the teacher wanted her for. Why was he waiting for her? It was awesome, but she still wanted to know why. However, she stopped and faced Mr. Saltzman.

"Yeah?" she asked, trying not to sound _too_ bitchy.

He put his hands on his hips. "I don't mean to throw to light what happened earlier, but . . . Is there any special reason why you thought what you thought?"

Elena shrugged. "It just seemed right. My mind told me it was."

"Hm," he said, nodding slowly while he looked at her thoughtfully. "Well, is any of what I said true?"

"What? Family secrets?" Elena chuckled, hugging her binder to her chest. "The Gilbert family doesn't have any that I know of."

"Well," Mr. Saltzman said, grabbing a notepad and jotting something down on it. ". . . If you ever find yourself rummaging through your family history and you find something interesting, would you mind emailing it to me? I find the history of Mystic Falls and it's Founding Families to be really interesting."

Stefan was suddenly there beside Elena, his arm brushing against her shoulder. She flinched, surprised at his suddenness and feeling more than a bit overwhelmed by his scent. It was like some sort of mixture between pear, lemongrass, wood, and leather.

Basically, he smelled like a man when in reality, he was a Junior in high school.

"You know, Mr. Saltzman, the Salvatore Boarding house had a pretty extensive library," he said, his voice cool-toned and smooth. "If you want, I can look and see if there's anything on the Gilbert family in there, too. Our families were friends, I believe."

Mr. Saltzman arched one eyebrow, nodding in interest. "Salvatore, eh? The Salvatore family is pretty interesting in and of itself, actually. Why don't you find me some information on your family?"

Stefan replied, "Yeah, I can do that. And yep, I'm a Salvatore. Hah."

Mr. Saltzman wrote his email down on another piece of paper, handing both pieces to Stefan and to Elena. "All I know about the Salvatore family is that you guys are the richest family in town, and your uncle donates to every community and charity event in town all year long."

"Well, that's my Uncle Zach for you. He's a regular philanthropist, that one . . ." Stefan said, and something in his voice sounded slightly sad. Elena looked up at him sharply.

It was a sadness she knew all too well.

Students for the next class period were already beginning to show up, but Stefan didn't seem to want to leave yet. He put the paper with Mr. Saltzman's email into his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and then slipped his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

"Say, Mr. Saltzman . . . Are you new in town?" Stefan asked, and now the sadness in his voice had disappeared. Now . . . His voice almost seemed emotionless. Suspicious, even.

Mr. Saltzman didn't seem to notice. "Yes, I moved here this summer."

"Any reason why?"

Elena pulled a face, puzzled. Why was Stefan interrogating a teacher? She didn't know either of them, but she could tell this situation was weird. Especially now, when she looked up at the teacher, his smile didn't seem quite as bright.

"For teaching," Mr. Saltzman said to Stefan. "Why do you ask?"

Stefan didn't speak and Elena looked from one to the other. Stefan was tall, over six feet tall for estimate, and Mr. Saltzman was about an inch shorter. They looked each other in the eyes, Stefan's green eyes glittering with an unspoken challenge and Mr. Saltzman's bearing down and almost accepting it. The air between them was tense and charged. Elena had never seen anything like this before between teach and student, and she wondered why Stefan was acting that.

Nonetheless, standing here was getting out of going to her next class, so she wasn't complaining all that much.

"I'll look through my library and scan anything cool that I find into the computer, Mr. Saltzman," Stefan said eventually, his voice completely changed again. Now, he sounded a bit _too_ chipper.

Weird . . .

"Sounds good," Mr. Saltzman said, also sounding overly-nice. "You kids have a good day! See you in class tomorrow. Don't forget to pick topics for your term papers!"

"Come on, Elena," Stefan said, turning with his hands still in his pockets and walking out.

Elena tore her eyes away from Mr. Saltzman, jarred by the fact that Stefan not only remembered her name but was telling her to "come on" as though they were friends who had known each other for a long time. She felt her cheeks going slightly red and for a moment, she forgot all about the awkward, strained moment between Stefan and Mr. Saltzman the History teacher.

"So, uh . . . What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing," Stefan said, glancing down at the clock on his cell phone. "What's your next class?"

He was smiling at her now, all white teeth and green eyes, and Elena had to avert her gaze. He was too good-looking . . .

"I think it's English," she said. "But yeah, that was weird."

Stefan looked at her for a second, almost in a scrutinizing manner - like he was trying to decide if he could trust her. She wasn't bothered by it, though. She knew she'd be sizing him up the entire time she knew him if he was going to keep giving her attention. Something was too good to be true about him. Maybe it was the insecurities that had sprouted in her from Matt and Caroline, but she just couldn't believe that someone like Stefan would want to be her friend at all.

"It was nothing," he repeated. "You'd better get to class."

"Okay . . ."

"See you tonight?"

Elena blinked, confused for a moment. Then, she remembered. "Oh, you mean at the party? Yeah, dude. I'm going."

"Good." He started backing away, giving her a small wave and a half-smile. "See ya."

Elena stood there, watching him go with bated breath, and then allowed herself to smile.

Maybe today wasn't as bad of a first day as she thought it was going to be.

 **ooo**

When Elena got home, she saw Jeremy sitting on the porch with a can of soda and his notebook in his lap. From her spot by the front door, Elena could see that he was doodling. She eyed him carefully, remembering their fight from earlier, and she felt guilt clawing at her stomach. She didn't like always fighting with her sixteen-year-old brother, but it was hard when he blamed her from everything bad that had happened to them since the accident. They fought more than they made up, and she wasn't sure how much longer it was going to be before they got into a full-blown sibling relationship-ending blowout.

Jeremy had his earbuds in, causing him to be unaware of her presence, so Elena just sighed and went inside the house. As she did, she could hear male voices coming from the dining room. One of them belonged to her Uncle, while the other one was as unfamiliar as ever. Elena wanted to take a peek and see who it was since the male voice sounded pretty young, but since Elena was carrying quite a bit of marijuana on her, she needed to get upstairs before her Uncle smelled it. He had the nose of a bloodhound, Elena swore.

She pounded her way up the stairs and stashed the weed in a small, old jewelry box on her dresser. She dropped her backpack on the floor by her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. She had a shit ton of homework already but had no desire to do any of it, so she decided to go downstairs to get a drink of water so she could spy on her Uncle.

Elena took off her combat boots before Uncle John had a hissy fit about mud getting on the hardwood or the carpet upstairs and made her way down the stairs. She walked into the kitchen, her ears listening in on what he was saying.

". . . My plan is just to ensure that the real problem in this town is taken care of before it begins," Uncle John was explaining, talking with his hands as politicians were prone to do. "I think that having the Sheriff or the Mayor leading the Council is just not working out for us. The only person who can speak for the townspeople is one of them, and that's what I hope to provide."

The second person answered, "No, I get what you're saying, John. I completely understand. And it's really good that you have the people of this town in mind. That's what my family has always had in mind - the safety of the people."

Elena stood at the island in the kitchen, sipping at her water. Her Uncle was sitting at the dining room table with his back to her, the man he was talking to sitting across from him. He was striking handsome with cheekbones as sharp as cliffs and a square jaw, grown-out black hair, and eyes that reminded Elena of pure sapphires. He was wearing a dark blue tee shirt that was tight enough to show off his abs and muscular biceps, a pair of slim-fit black jeans, and boots. Elena rolled her eyes - just like Uncle John to show company special treatment. _Company_ could wear their shoes inside, but _Heaven forbid_ Elena or Jeremy do it.

"Nothing bad ever happens in Mystic Falls, you know," Elena said, pushing her fingers through her impossibly long hair. She took another sip of her water and ignored the look her Uncle was throwing her way. "So there's really no need to worry about the people. What my Uncle wants is your money."

Uncle John's face went red. "I am . . . _So_ sorry, Damon. She's just a kid. She doesn't understand politics." He whirled around in his chair and glared at his niece. "Elena Gilbert, please excuse yourself. _Now_."

"No, it's all right, John," Damon said, holding up a hand to halt him. He was smirking over at Elena, a twinkle of curiosity in his unsettling azure eyes. "I find millennials to have very interesting points of view. They aren't burdened by the same things that we adults are so they have a tendency to see things at face-value."

Elena hid a smile over her cup and said, "Well, I just think that in a town like this, the Council's main focus should be on things that actually matter. Things that make the town better."

"Things like what?" Damon asked. His eyes were fixated completely on her and while his disposition didn't give Elena the same feelings of nervousness and butterflies that Stefan's did, Elena couldn't deny that there was yet another attractive new face in Mystic Falls.

Elena didn't really like politics - in fact, she despised them - but something about the way Damon was looking at her made her feel . . . Well, important. Like what she had to say actually mattered to him. She set her cup down and elaborated on her earlier words.

"Well, for instance, we have no mall in a town full of teenagers. Which then causes people to hang out around town or at the Mystic Grill and piss off all the elderlies."

"Language, Elena," John warned.

Elena ignored him. "Not to mention, there's no Starbucks which is a travesty, and the _only_ restaurant is Mystic Grill. Besides fast food places, there's literally nowhere else to eat. To be honest, this town is stuck in a limbo that could be fixed in the Council actually _did_ something with all their money and power."

Damon nodded. "Okay, Okay . . . So what you're saying is that the Council should set aside safety . . . So that they can build a mall for you to go shopping at?"

Elena blinked, her heart skipping a beat. Now, that just made her sound stupid.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." She set her half-empty water glass down and tucked her long hair behind her ears. "What I'm saying is that _because_ nothing bad ever happens here, they should put a little more focus into things that make the town better. All they do is spend a shit ton of money on the police station and whatever this 'safety' is you guys are talking about. And all the Mayor ever does is throw balls and galas and charity events and while those are fun and charity is great, it all seems kind-of frivolous. The point of a Town Council is to take care of the _town_."

Damon smirked again. "So safety isn't important if nobody is getting hurt?"

"Well, yeah. If nothing's happening, why waste money on . . . Well, nothing?"

"Safety means nothing to you?" Damon raised his eyebrows. "Interesting . . . So my family donates millions of dollars a year to charities and community-themed events. Should we take that money away from those things to build your mall? If someone asked you to make the decision which charity we stop donating such massive amounts to, would you be able to choose?"

Elena couldn't think of anything to say. "Uhh . . ."

Damon went on, "And then after you make that decision, what happens if something happens? Something 'bad', as you say? Someone gets hurt, there's an accident at a factory and a lot of people get hurt. You do realize that hospitals fall under the net of what the Council considers 'safety', right? Because effectively, hospitals and charities for sick children and elders would be affected by a decision like that."

"I . . . Well, that's not what I meant," Elena said meekly. "I was just trying to point out that people aren't seeing any of this happening. All we're seeing is a bunch of wild parties thrown by the Mayor and nothing being done."

"Nothing being done?" Damon smiled for a moment, but it disappeared almost as soon as it showed up. "Just because you don't see the work being done, doesn't mean it isn't being done behind the scenes. A town cannot function without police stations, hospitals, or community-themed events to keep everyone in a state of togetherness. What your Uncle John wants to do is ensure that these things stay at the forefront of the budget."

"I'm aware of _that_ , I just don't think we should spend so much money on a police station that has like, 20 police officers and one Sheriff when nothing ever happens here, and nothing has happened here for my entire life," Elena protested. "I think it's stupid that people are getting taxed by the town on their paychecks so they can fund a Council that can't even bother to build a mall to keep the teenagers out of trouble. Kids get arrested left and right for doing things that they could keep from doing if they had something fun to do. We don't even have a movie theater, like . . . ? It's dumb!"

Uncle John was eyeing her with narrowed eyes, obviously angry with her for not only cussing, but interrupting the "adults."

What Damon said next made Elena so angry that she forgot all about Uncle John and everything that had happened that day. It made her so angry that she wanted to dump the contents of her glass on top of Damon's smug, attractive head.

"So because a seventeen-year-old says that her and her peers are bored, the Town Council should forgo all efforts to keep the town safe, funnel money away from the police station and charity events, and build restaurants and malls so that she and said peers can eat and have a good time," Damon said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His eyes were burning into her.

"Th-That's not what I . . . You're taking what I said out of context!" Elena spluttered, her hands gripping her water glass so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She was mad, embarrassed, and chastised all at once.

"Elena, I think it's time for you to _excuse. Yourself_ ," Uncle John said through tightly-clenched teeth. His eyes were blazing. "I will deal with you _later_."

"Fine," Elena said, gritting her teeth against the foul things she wanted to say to Damon. She turned on her heel to walk away, freezing at Damon's next words.

"Sometimes, it's best to be what you are," he said. "And what you are is a kid. So be a kid while you still can. Don't worry about things that you don't understand."

Elena wanted to _scream._

She whirled around. "Who the fuck even _are_ you?!"

" _ELENA_!" Uncle John roared, standing up so fast that he almost knocked over his chair. He pointed one firm finger in the direction of the stairwell. "Upstairs. _Now_!"

"It's okay, John, really," Damon said, urging him to sit. Then, he looked at Elena. "My name is Damon. Damon Salvatore."

Elena blinked. Salvatore? So he was related to Stefan . . . But Stefan had only mentioned his Uncle Zach, no other family. Was Damon his other Uncle or something? A cousin, perhaps? Elena shook her head, no longer caring. He was an ass napkin, just like her Uncle, and she found him insufferable. Without another word to him, she left the room and went upstairs.

When she got into her room, Elena took off her jacket and thigh high socks. She then shut the door behind her, knowing that the only thing she could do to calm down was sit down at her keyboard by her bedroom window and play until she sang away her troubles.

The next couple of hours passed by without incident, Elena finding herself feeling a lot calmer after smoking a bowl by the open window and blowing the smoke outside. She gazed out at the quiet, suburban street, absently watching the neighbor kids playing soccer on their front lawn in the slowly-failing sunlight.

She didn't want to dwell on the earlier events. She hated politics for that exact reason. She didn't like the constant back and forth of debates, two people trying to prove the other wrong. It was like a battle to see who could make the other feel worse about themselves over things that in the grand scheme of things, they had no say in. Elena was a firm believer that elections were all rigged and the notion that people had any _real_ say over who was in power was humorous to her. She had already decided that she didn't want to vote when she turned eighteen - she just didn't care enough. All she wanted to do at this point was move across country, playing in dive bars until she made it to someplace magical like New Orleans or something.

Elena sat down to play her piano again around 7 or so, wanting to get in one more song before dinner. After she did so, her throat aching from all the singing, she got up to light up another bowl. She was just inhaling from her pipe, sitting on the windowsill with one leg up and the other hanging down to the floor, when her bedroom door burst open. Uncle John was standing there looking more livid than she had ever seen him before. She wasn't scared of him, though. Not when he was sober, at least.

"What you did, Elena Gilbert," he snarled. "Was beyond any disrespect that you could ever hope to offend me with."

Elena's face fell flat and she stared at him. She pointed to her face, sneakily hiding her pipe behind her back before he noticed it. "Does it look like I care?"

Uncle John passed his hands down his face in exasperation. "Elena, why do you fight me so much? Why can't you just follow the rules and do as I say? I don't ask for much! All I ask for is the same respect that you would show any adult!"

Elena tried her best to keep her anger and anxiety in check. "No one asked you to care about what I do, Uncle John. You choose to care, so that's why you're bothered by it. And honestly, I _don't_ care what you or anyone else wants. I'm going to do whatever the Hell I _want_ because you're not my dad. So."

Then, in a spurt of rebellion, Elena did the stupidest thing she'd possibly ever done.

She pulled her pipe out from behind her back, placed the mouthpiece up to her lips, looked Uncle John dead-ass in the eyes, and she lit the bowl. His jaw dropped and his eyes blazed with the white-hot intensity of one thousand stars. He watched her blow the smoke out the window, their eyes never leaving each other's, and Elena waited. She knew what she had done was wrong, but she was challenging him. He'd bruised her already from grabbing her and he was too much of a pussy to actually hit her. So she wanted to see what he would do if she showed him that, "Hey, I'm not scared of you. You can't control me."

"Elena. Gilbert," he murmured, his lips trembling with enmity. "Put that down this instant, or I will beat you until you do."

Shocked at his words, Elena almost put the pipe down. She hesitated.

"Touch me, and I will literally rip your throat out," Elena hissed. "I'll scream and I'll fight back. You will _not_ touch me."

During this whole instance, Jeremy had appeared in the doorway, watching with alarmed curiosity. Aunt Jenna was standing behind him, peering anxiously at the exchange over his shoulder. Elena's brother sighed.

"Come on, Elena," he said. "You're being ridiculous. Stop acting like this."

"No! Fuck you!" Elena shouted. "I wish you'd all stop telling me what to do and just leave me alone!"

"Elena, lower your voice and _stop_ using that _language_ in my house," Uncle John said, his voice still dangerously and terrifying in its low volume. He took a step toward Elena. "Put down the pipe and apologize, or else I _will_ use force."

Jeremy pressed his lips together in a tight line. "Uncle John -"

" _Shut up, Jeremy_!" Uncle John roared, causing Elena to jump.

If there was one thing that scared Elena, it was a man yelling at the top of his lungs. But she didn't want to back down. She didn't care if she was being stupid or stubborn. Uncle John had been nothing but cruel to her since he got custody of her and Jeremy. He'd called her names, grabbed her roughly, shoved her up against walls, thrown things at her while he was drunk. Her body had been bruised more times this summer than it had in her entire life, and she used to be a cheerleader! She didn't understand why she should have to feel like all of this was her fault, and she didn't understand why she had to listen to someone who hated her and would be happier if she wasn't around.

It was unfair.

Uncle John started toward her and Elena felt an almost panicked feeling coming over her. She tried to sidestep him, balling her fists and holding them up protectively.

"No, you stay away from me, you fucking asshole!" Elena yelled, jumping onto her bed to halt his advance.

Her final words broke the semi-calm spell he was under. His eyes seemed to lose their color and darken with shadows. He lunged forward and grabbed her ankles, dragging her down onto her rump. Her heart began to race and she lost her shit, kicking her legs and screaming as her Uncle John fought with her. He yanked her until her legs hung off the end of the bed and grunted with exertion as he forced her to roll onto her stomach. She fought as hard as she could, her breathing going wild with terror when he place his hands on the back of her head and pressed her face into the comforter so hard that she couldn't breathe. She could hear Jeremy and her Aunt Jenna pleading with their Uncle to stop, to let Elena have air.

" _You will learn not to challenge me and break the rules in my house_!" Uncle John snarled, leaning down so that his acidic voice hurt her eardrums with the pure hatred he held for her in it. "I am _tired_ of butting heads with you, Elena. You are a _child_ , and _I_ am in authority over you. Now, you're going to _learn_ your _place_."

Elena felt her lungs begging for precious, sweet oxygen, but all she got was more mouthfuls of cotton. She placed her hands on the mattress and tried to push up but she couldn't, and she could feel her heart beating faster and faster. She was absolutely, utterly _terrified_. What if he didn't let her breathe? What if she died here, right in front of Jeremy? She may have argued with him, but she didn't want him to see this. She didn't want him to lose everyone and be left with this horrible man.

"Stop . . . Fighting," Uncle John growled, pressing down harder, his fingers tangled so hard in her hair that it stung.

For Jeremy's sake, Elena knew she needed to stop. Even just this once.

Elena went limp, feeling dizzy when Uncle John finally, blessedly let her go. She flung herself backward away from the mattress, clutching a hand over her aching chest. She coughed and hacked, the cotton spores in her dry throat making it hard to catch her breath. Her eyes filled with tears, but she did her _damndest_ to keep them from showing. She would _not_ give her Uncle that satisfaction.

Jeremy scrambled to her side, falling to one knee beside her and putting his arm around her. He held her chin in his hand and tilted her face upward, his eyes burning with tears and concern for his sister. Elena could tell he was trying to be strong. Nothing like this had ever happened to her or to him. This wasn't something Jeremy deserved, and even though Elena felt guilty for the accident with their parents, she didn't believe she deserved to die for it.

At the doorway, Aunt Jenna was crying, sobbing uncontrollably, and saying her husband's name over and over. Elena couldn't find it within herself to feel that badly for her, however, wondering to herself why she hadn't done more to help. What if Uncle John had suffocated her? Her Aunt would have just stood by and watched as Elena died fighting for her life. How was that fair?

Then, just when it couldn't get any worse, Uncle John pointed at the bed.

"Elena, bend over," he said. "You need to learn."

" _What_?" Elena squeaked out, her fear affecting her voice. In a move much unlike her, she gripped the folds of Jeremy's white tee shirt and clung to him, shaking her head. "N-No . . . No!"

"Come on, Uncle John!" Jeremy shouted, beseeching their Uncle. "Don't you think you've tortured her enough? She's not a little kid!"

"If she were a little kid, she'd be getting a rightfully-earned spanking, Jeremy!" Uncle John roared in response, walking over to Elena and Jeremy. He bent down by them with fury-filled eyes and pointed at the bed again. "It's because she's not a little kid that I'm going to teach her her place! Now, Elena! Bend over or else I'll beat Jeremy in your place!"

Elena felt the balloon in her chest getting so large that she couldn't handle it anymore, and she went into full-blown panic mode. She couldn't believe this was happening. He wasn't even drunk! What the Hell was going on?!

"This is _your_ fault, Elena," Uncle John snapped, grabbing Elena and forcing her out of Jeremy's arms. He gave Jeremy a threatening look when he tried to come to her aid, and he shoved Elena's petite form in order to make her bend over the bed. He pushed down on the shoulder that was bruised, causing her collarbones to scream in protest and she cried out in pain.

The first blow of his rock-hard fist hit her back and she couldn't help it - she _screamed_. It hurt worse than anything she had ever experienced. it felt like her back was being laid open with fire, each blow sizzling down into her bones. She tried to scramble up onto the bed and away but the force of his blows raining down upon her back stopped her, the pain becoming too overwhelming. She felt like she would never stop screaming and when he grabbed her long hair in handfuls to hold her down, she nearly lost consciousness from how panicky her breathing was. She was suffering, to be quite frank, and the combination of the anxiety and the fear and agony in her flesh was causing her to see spots.

"If you ever, _ever_ disrespect me again, you'll get another beating. And then another. And another. Until you learn." Uncle John said when he was finally done and Elena felt nothing but a constant burning and throbbing in her back. "I will beat your back until not an inch of skin is left without bruises until. You. _Learn_. Now, stay in here all night and think about what you've done. No dinner."

He left the room after grabbing Elena's discarded weed pipe, dragging the still-weeping Aunt Jenna with him.

Elena felt Jeremy sitting down beside her on the bed but she couldn't move. She just laid there on her stomach, face turned toward the window, counting backwards from ten to not only cope with the intense pain, but to keep herself from crying. She needed to be strong. She wasn't sure if any lessons had been learned, but she did know that she hated her Uncle even more than she had before.

Jeremy gingerly brushed his fingers across her bruised back, most of which was showing due to her wearing a crop top. Then, he sighed sadly.

"I'm so sorry, Elena," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "I should have protected you."

"It's okay," Elena whispered back, her voice barely a breath. Her chest, lungs, and back all felt like Hell and she didn't know how she was going to get through this without outside help. Her eyes traveled to her backpack, remembering the pills. But when Jeremy touched another bruise and it caused her to whimper, she realized she was going to need something stronger than pills for this.

"It's not going to happen again," Jeremy assured her, his fingers coming her scalp and running down the length of her dark chocolate hair. "I promise you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jeremy," Elena sighed, hissing in pain as she struggled up into a sitting position. She walked carefully over to her dresser and began to rummage through it for clothes. She just wanted to leave. She needed to get out of here before she had another panic attack.

"Why wouldn't I be able to keep it?" Jeremy asked, sounding hurt. "I care about you, Elena. I love you, and I'm your big brother. I _can_ protect you."

"What about when he gets drunk?" she murmured, the pain keeping her voice low. She pulled out a black zip-up hoodie with a lime green zipper and drawstrings. She slowly slipped her arms into it, her eyes prickling from the sheer anguish she was experiencing. "What about when you're at football practice or working on a project at a friend's house? You can't be here 24/7, Jer. And to be honest, I can't just change my fucking personality. I'm way too -"

"Stubborn?" he growled angrily.

Elena rolled her eyes. " _Independent,_ Jeremy. I don't like being controlled or told what to do. You know that."

"You didn't seem to mind doing what Mom and Dad told you to do."

Elena slammed the dresser drawer shut and glowered at him in her vanity mirror. "Jeremy!" she screeched. "Mom and dad are _gone_ , okay? They're fucking _gone_ , and so I don't have to listen to _anyone_ anymore, okay?!"

Jeremy's eyes immediately began to well up with tears and Elena could see that his fingernails were digging into his kneecaps. He was shaking, struggling to keep his anger in check. He knew Elena couldn't bring herself to speak the actual words aloud, but "gone" had the same effect and meaning behind it. Elena had hurt him.

"Where are you going?" he asked bitterly when Elena pulled her socks back on as quickly as she could without hurting herself too badly.

"To Tyler Lockwood's party to get some drugs so that I don't feel this pain anymore," Elena stated plainly. She didn't apologize for what she had said, even though she felt bad. She was angry and their lives were fucked up and after the ordeal she'd just been through, she couldn't be bothered to spare Jeremy's feelings. At this point, she just wanted to get fucked up and forget everything.

Sometimes, Elena felt like she was alone in the universe, spinning around and around with all this energy and sadness and anxiety and no matter what she did, she could never stop.

"You can't go to a party after what just happened!" Jeremy protested.

" _Lower_ your voice," Elena said with a snap of her fingers. "And literally I'm going to do whatever I want, okay? So you can come with me if you want, but if not, then just stay home and rat on me. Won't matter because I'll be high as fuck."

"Where is it even going to be?" he demanded, arms crossed over his chest.

"The woods somewhere. I'll text Vickie when I get near the school. Probably going to be behind the Lockwood mansion."

Jeremy closed his mouth and exhaled through his nose. Elena could tell he was really pissed off, but she knew him well. He was just worried about her and on any other night, he'd most likely cover for her.

"Fine," he said. "I'll come with you. But only because you're hurt, you got it? Now, you go, and I'll make sure they think we're going to bed since they believe everything I say. I'll catch up to you near the school, and then we'll head to the woods."

"Yep," Elena said, pulling on her combat boots. She traipsed over to the window after pulling all of her thick, straight hair to one side of her head. She put her hood up and peered out into the darkness, taking a deep breath as another bout of throbbing pain assailed her. "And Jeremy?"

"What?" Jeremy asked as he stood up, preparing to go get a jacket.

"I love you, too," Elena said, biting her lower lip and looking away shyly. She didn't like admitting her feelings toward anyone emotionally. At least, not anymore.

Jeremy couldn't stop himself from smiling. "I know." He turned to go.

"Oh, and Jeremy?" Elena said, one foot out the window already.

" _Whaaat_?" he sighed, sounding borderline annoyed.

"I'll need your help getting onto the tree branch . . ."

 **ooo**

 _"Didn't you learn anything from the story of Qetsiyah, sister? Spells this big. . . They can hurt."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Holy crap, that took me like 7 hours to write, lol. Well, that was certainly a jump in the drama and a super long chapter. Worst part it that it's only going to get worse! So buckle up, and prepare for some crazy things to go down.**

 **So in this chapter, we met Caroline and found out how her friendship with Elena ended, and the real reason why Elena and Matt broke up. Then we saw that Elena is definitely forming a crush on Stefan but she is very insecure and doesn't understand why (or even think) that he would ever show interest in her, even just for friendship. Then we met Mr. Saltzman who is very interested in the Founding Families, for some unknown reason, and him and Stefan has a tense man-challenge-moment. Why? We'll eventually find out. Then we met Damon who seems a little bit refined and definitely pretty full of himself. He enjoyed making Elena look stupid, and since we know Klaus sent him, we know this is only the beginning of the torment he will inflict upon her. I will not say whether this story will have Delena in it, nor what context that Delena might be, so be prepared for that. After that, we had the climax of the chapter, where Uncle John's tether finally snapped and he hit Elena for the first time. Only he didn't just hit her - he tried to beat her into submission. Then we got a little taste of the dynamic of Jeremy's relationship with his sister and how complicated it is right now, and also a pretty big hint as to what happened to their parents.**

 **Which brings me to my explanation of why I made Elena's character this way. There is a big reason why she's so different that I can't explain without giving away plot, but I will say that I made her bitchy, angry at everything, hating people, and hooked on drugs for a reason. Elena went through a traumatic event with no therapy whatsoever, she suffers from undiagnosed Anxiety Disorder, and she is naturally a very independent person. She is butting heads with her Uncle because she has yet to accept things in her life. I don't want you guys to completely dislike her character, even though I know it's hard to stomach her anger and immaturity right now. But please, do stick around!**

 **Thank you to those of you who have reviewed! I see that this story is getting quite a few views, so thank you for that as well. I hope you enjoy this!**

 **To any of you who are wondering, this story is semi AU, but also semi-canon. I can't explain why, but you will eventually find out! I promise!**

 **Note: I mention a very important date in American history in this chapter, and I mention it wrong on purpose. So it is a necessary and intentional mistake.**


	5. Fusion

**They may be typos. Will edit this chapter and the last chapter as soon as I can.**

 **Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Hurricane**_ **" - Ms Mr**

* * *

 **Chapter Four - Fusion**

 **ooo**

"Nothing happens until something moves."

\- Albert Einstein

 **ooo**

"Gimme the hardest thing you got."

Damon sat down on an open barstool, the light above him bathing him in a soft, yellow glow. He rested his elbows on the bartop in front of him, tossing a couple of surreptitious glances around him. He could hear everyone's conversations at once, mingling together to form a loud blur of white noise that he didn't exactly care about.

So far, his trip to Mystic Falls had been a success. He'd managed to infiltrate the council, befriend the local Sheriff, and locate the Doppelganger in a matter of days. He hadn't been sure until he'd seen her outside the high school, spray painting a wall. He'd watched her for a while, sneaking up behind her while she was listening to music, and had even spoken to her. He had attempted to scare her, but the girl had an attitude more feisty than he'd expected. And while her face was the spitting image of the love of his life, Damon knew it wasn't her. And as dismal as that was, Damon was under compulsion and his number one priority was to keep the Doppelganger right where Klaus needed her to be. So he'd run off, finding that his earlier dinner was dripping off of his chin and onto the ground, and the girl had noticed.

However dark that had been, nothing compared to their exchange in the Gilbert household the following afternoon. Damon had found a sick satisfaction in watching her squirm as he took her thoughts and opinions and twisted them against her, enjoying the embarrassment in her eyes. He loved it when humans blushed - it reminded him that no matter how beautiful they were, they were still fragile. Weak and breakable.

Food.

Still, Damon knew he couldn't feed on her. As far as Klaus thought, he needed every drop of the Doppelganger's blood to bring his plans to fruition. Eventually, Damon would need to figure out a way to capture Elena and bring her to where Klaus needed her to be. But since for now, he had only been compelled to play with his food, all Damon could do was follow orders.

' _Orders that don't even make sense_ ,' he thought irritably. ' _Who compels someone to watch over someone and terrorize them, but not kill them? What's the point of me terrorizing her if it just makes me hungry? Not like I can eat her, so it's a waste of time.'_

But Damon knew there was nothing he could do. When an Original compelled you, there was no getting out of it.

He watched as the bartender placed an empty shot glass in front of him, uncorked an expensive bottle of whiskey, and poured a small amount of it into the glass.

Before the boy could put the stopper back into it, Damon snatched it out of his hand in record time, looking directly at the kid as he tilted his head back and took a large swig. The boy looked visibly shaken and like he didn't know what to do with himself or his hands.

"Sir, you can't drink from the bottle like that," he said, brow furrowed in alarm.

Damon ignored the few stares he was getting at the bar, smirking at the boy.

"Why not?" He took another swig, feeling the liquid burning its way down into the pit of his stomach. It had and would never have any real effect on him.

Not anymore, at least.

"Because it's for customers!" the boy spluttered, his eyes following the movement of Damon drinking _more_ of the whiskey. "At the Mystic Grill, you have to have a party of three to purchase a full bottle."

Damon paused, thinking on how absurd the rule was. Behind him, restaurant patrons continued to eat and prattle on, unaware of the exchange.

"How much is a full bottle?" he asked, holding the bottle out of reach of the kid just in case he made a swipe for it.

"90$, sir," he said, visibly exasperated. "But you don't have a party of three, so you-"

"Then give me 90$," Damon cut him off.

The boy looked incredibly amused at that. "Give you . . . ? Are you insane?"

Damon took another drink and said glumly, "In a manner."

The boy stared at him for a drawn-out moment, as if gauging whether or not Damon truly _was_ off his rocker. Then, he shook his head. "Please return the bottle, dude. Man to man, you're being a real dick. I could lose my job."

Damon set the bottle down on the bartop so hard that it made a deep _thunk_ , some of the whiskey sloshing out over the lip of the mouth of the bottle. He narrowed his eyes and stared directly into the bartender's, focusing all of his energy and power into his strong desire to make the kid dance. The boy's eyes immediately glazed over, waiting.

"Give me 90$," Damon said strongly and firmly, pushing his wishes outward toward the boy.

The boy slowly reached into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He opened it and pulled out his credit card and a 20$ bill. In a dreamlike daze, he grinned and spoke.

"All I have is this. Will it work?" he asked wistfully, seeing right through Damon.

A couple stools down, someone was watching intently as they sipped their bourbon.

Damon grinned wickedly. "You tell me." Then, his eyes twinkled devilishly. "And how about you tell me the _whole_ truth."

The boy slowly shook his head. "Nope, not enough. My credit card is maxed out from all the insane shopping trips I take my girlfriend on because I know she's cheating on me. I just don't want her to leave me, so I put up with the cheating and buy her stuff even though my parents pay for the bill."

Damon raised his eyebrows and said nothing, taking a gulp of whiskey.

The boy blinked in confusion. "Why did I . . . Why did I tell you that? What . . . ?"

Damon tried not to laugh. Oh, how he loved playing with his food. Especially when he did it out in the open, where anyone could see. He glanced around, seeing that nobody was paying attention.

Except for one person.

Damon's gaze zeroed in on this person, who was watching him with narrowed, very-present eyes. He had never met the man before, but just by looking into his face, Damon could tell the man certainly knew him. He took another drink of whiskey, nodding in greeting to the man before he turned back to the boy.

"Put the money back in your wallet and get back to work," Damon said tersely. "And forget you ever met me."

The boy blinked once, looked around in a disoriented manner, and then gave Damon a friendly smile.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

Damon ignored him, focusing instead on the man who had been eyeing the entire exchange. Taking the whiskey with him, Damon sauntered down to where the man was sitting and took the barstool beside him.

"Want some?" he asked nonchalantly, holding the whiskey out to the man.

The man just stared at him.

Damon waited and when no reply came, only silent and smoldering hatred, he shrugged and chugged some more down.

"Your loss, dude," he said, slamming the bottle down. He looked at the man. "What's with the creepy death-glare?"

The man raised his eyebrows. "Is it normal for people to just, tell you everything? Or do you just compel them all to do as you say because it's amusing?"

Damon tried not to look too taken-aback. He knew the members of the council and law enforcement knew about the existence of his kind, but he hadn't told any of them the truth of what he was. This man was a stranger-not anyone he had ever laid eyes on before. With his sandy blonde hair and beady little eyes, he appeared harmless to Damon. He could hear his heart beating from where he sat, so it was clear that the man was human.

And yet . . . Somehow this man knew about compulsion. How could that be?

Damon narrowed his eyes and gave him a mirthless smirk. "Just call me Mr. Morningstar."

The man stood up, pulled some money out, and slapped a few crumpled bills on the bartop. His gaze lingered upon Damon threateningly for a long moment before he eventually spoke.

"Try not to kill anyone's wife while you're here, Damon," the man said, a small smile spreading across his face. "Or else something might happen to someone you care about."

Damon sat there in stunned silence as the man strolled away casually, as though he hadn't just threatened a centuries-old vampire with his very-human blood pumping through his body. Though Damon had no clue what the man was talking about. There was nobody here in town that the man could possibly think he "cared" about, so he was definitely intrigued.

Could this man possibly be . . . A hunter?

Damon slammed back as much of the alcohol as he could, signaling to the bartender. He supposed it was time for some dinner.

 **ooo**

Elena winced with each step she took down the sidewalk, trying not to feel the pain too wholly. She was still in shock over the whole situation. Sure, Uncle John had thrown things at her while he was drunk, maybe yelled insults or dumped his beer over her head once or twice . . . But a full-blown beating?

She supposed she shouldn't be all that surprised, however. She had written an essay on teen violence in her Current Events class the previous school year and learned that abuse didn't usually start with a _bang_ like one would think. Of course, that was _teen_ violence and she wasn't quite sure how it applied to her situation, but it couldn't be _that_ different. The rage, the desire to force submission, to demand complete control - that all had to come from the same place. The same demons, slithering along the darkest canals in a person's heart.

"How ya holdin' up?" Jeremy asked, his voice shattering her thoughts like an explosion. The fact that she was so visibly startled by the octave of Jeremy's voice seemed to concern him, so in a move most unlike him, he put his arm around her. Equally surprising, she didn't push him away.

"I feel like someone shoved me into a plastic tub and tossed me off the highest peak of Mt. Everest," Elena replied, feeling the acute tremors pulsating through the bruises in her back. "To be honest, I feel like I'm gonna pass the fuck out, dude."

Jeremy immediately stopping, tightening his grip on her gently to keep her from moving.

"Do you want to go back home?" he asked worriedly, his eyes searching hers. "It would probably be better anyway. It was like, incredibly stupid of us to leave right after that."

Elena shook her head stubbornly, mentally balling up the pain and shoving it into the back of her mind. "No, Jer. I want to go to this party. I want to drink until my ass falls off and forget about everything."

Jeremy stood there a bit numbly as Elena left the circle of his embrace and kept walking down the road. It was clear to him - Elena was afraid of what would happen, there was no doubt about it. But with her personality, she had to be either in denial . . . Or she believed she could fight back.

"You aren't strong enough, Elena," he sighed.

She stopped her careful, anguished limps. Balling her fists at her sides, she turned her head slightly, glowering at him through her peripheral vision. A gentle evening breeze whipped up, rippling the fabric of her skirt as she turned to face him.

"Yes, I am." Her voice was a whisper of quiet strength, like a winter rose. The wind blew her hair across her face, the strands turned ebony by the dark of the night, and her eyes pierced through the veil.

Jeremy sighed again. "Elena, don't kid yourself, all right? What if he hits you again?"

"I'll hit him back harder," she bit back, whirling around and continuing to limp. Jeremy watched her, feeling as though this entire situation was almost darkly comical. His sister was so stubborn. He may be angry with her a lot of the time and they may not get along so well, but she was still his sister.

He'd never forget what it felt like to watch his Uncle pin her down and beat her. Never forget the fear that thrummed through his veins at the fact that his first thought was even more horrifying. He almost felt sick to his stomach. He had thought that something else was going to happen, and it made him hate his Uncle all the more.

"Elena, you won't have to," Jeremy said decidedly, jogging to catch up with her. He fell in step beside her and their eyes met. He offered her a small smile. "Next time, I'll protect you."

Elena smiled back, but it was tinged with a hollow sadness. "I'm the big sister. It's _my_ job to protect _you_."

With that, the two of them fell into a silence more comfortable than any they had experienced this Summer. For the first time in a while, they weren't fighting and Jeremy didn't feel like she was the bane of his existence. He wasn't sure how he would feel the next day, but at that moment, he loved her. He knew that the next time Uncle John took aim, Jeremy would be the one to take the bullet.

Elena felt tears stinging at the back of her eyes with every fall of her foot to pavement and she found herself blindly reaching for her brother's hand. She was trying her hardest to be strong for him. She didn't want to fail him any more than she already had. She knew she and her Uncle would butt heads again, but she didn't want Jeremy to think she couldn't handle it. They were two kids without options, floating on a tiny sea in the middle of a choppy sea. The best she could do for him was to ride out the storm.

They neared the cemetery a little while later, hearing music pounding faintly out through the woods. There were people trickling down the path through the gravestones and family plots, teens with equal missions to party in the new school year. The closer they got, the more excited Elena got. Not only was she going to get drunk enough to completely cancel out the soreness in her body, but she was going to get to see her best friend. If anyone could help her forget, it was Vicky.

Oh, and she may or may not have been a teensy-bit excited at the prospect of seeing Stefan Salvatore.

As soon as the name Salvatore popped into her head, she saw icy blue eyes and felt an involuntary chill run down her spine. She remembered the heated conversation she had had with Damon Salvatore that afternoon and she couldn't help but hate the guy a little. After all, if it weren't for him trying to make her look like an idiot, she never would have "embarrassed" Uncle John. She wouldn't be covered in bruises.

Elena felt her heart wrench. Who was she kidding? The fault was entirely her own. This whole situation was. Because if she went all the way back to the beginning of the Summer, this whole thing started with her.

Uncle John wouldn't be their guardian if their parents were still alive.

The brunette girl forced her tears to dissolve through sheer force of will. She absolutely would _not_ cry for herself. She didn't deserve it.

What _did_ she deserve?

As if in response, a bruise on her lower back twinged.

"Jeremy, dude, come over here!"

Jeremy and Elena glanced at the edge of the rather packed-full party, where s group of Jeremy's popular friends were standing near a truck. There was a couple large kegs in the truck bed, and people were coming and going with their red cups. Jeremy placed his hands on either side of Elena's head, feeling her soft hair, and looked her in the eyes.

"You gonna be all right, big sis?" he asked.

"Yes, you big idiot," Elena said, unable to keep herself from chuckling. "I'll go look for Vicky."

Jeremy kissed her on top of the head and then went to meet with his friends. Elena put her hood on and watched him with her hands in her jacket pockets, the ghost of a smile gracing her features as Jeremy high-fived his friends and accepted a drink. She always found it amusing when he drank. She supposed she should be trying to stop him, since she was the elder sibling and all, but she knew it would be hypocritical.

Elena finally turned away, eyes glancing around at the clearing where the party was being held. There were a few gravestones scattered throughout, but they were so old that they looked more like jagged boulders jutting up from the grass. There was kids from her school everywhere, most of them dancing and laughing at the music the DJ was playing in the corner. There were cars everywhere, some more trucks holding kegs, and a _lot_ of hormones in the air.

"Elenaaaaaaaaaaaa," a familiar voice slurred from behind her, turning out to be Vickie.

"Hey, Vickie!" Elena said happily, lifting her arms to hug her friend. The pain almost crippled her, however, and she gasped loudly. Her mouth fell open. Holy _shit_ , that had hurt.

"What's . . . What's wrong?" Vickie asked, staggering slightly. The drink in her cup sloshed over the rims. Her eyes seemed to be having a hard time focusing.

Elena laughed and took her friend's drink from her. She chugged it all down, her eyes twinkling at Vickie as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She hated the taste of beer, but she _loved_ what it did to her.

After handing the empty cup to her friend, she said, "Nothing now."

With that, the two girls immediately went to get some more.

 **ooo**

An hour later found Elena Gilbert sitting by herself on a fall tree stump in the next clearing over, marijuana smoke surrounding her in what felt like a warm blanket. She could hardly feel her bruises anymore, and with the small amount of alcohol in her system and the weed she was now smoking, she almost felt like that day had never happened. The music and dancing was in the other part of the party, but this part was the part Elena enjoyed. The mellow kids who hung out at the Stoner Pit, getting high and talking about deep shit like the stars and life.

"You ever think about like, time travel?" someone in the group she was sitting with asked.

"Yeah," another person said as they lit up the bowl and took a hit. "Sometimes I get like, this weird feeling that I lived another life and went back in time to do it all over. Then I get high and forget all about it."

"You mean like déja vu?" Elena asked, accepting the pipe as it was handed to her. She didn't say anything more. She had to admit, she had felt like that quite a bit lately. Like how in class, when she'd mixed up the years of history and embarrassed herself. She knew it probably didn't mean much, but when she was high, it was fun to marvel at the mysteries of the universe.

"Wouldn't it be fuckin' wild if we really had lived another life?" Vickie mumbled from the place she was lying on the ground. She was so completely faded that Elena couldn't help but laugh incredulously, amazed that she was even conscious.

"Yeah," Elena agreed, gazing upward. The trees were barren, as was normal for Fall, so she could see the stars twinkling in the night sky. It was wild to think about how even though there were so many of them clustered together up there, none of them were actually in the vicinity of one another. Each one was infinitely alone, burning and burning until someday, nothing but a shadow would be left of them. Billions of years would go by and still, they'd be alone.

And yet, Elena couldn't think of anything more wonderful.

' _You can't let anyone down that way,'_ she thought. ' _Disappointment doesn't exist in space._ '

Vickie finally passed out and the bowl was almost gone, so Elena decided to get up and go walk to the river. She liked the partying and the forgetting and whatnot, but after a day like that one, she really needed to be alone. She staggered slightly from the alcohol, but regained her steps and made her way through the dark trees. She could hear the water rushing by just ahead of her and she felt eager to get to its calming presence.

"Headed for a swim?" came a snobby voice from behind her.

Elena froze.

Caroline laughed and then said, "Wickery Bridge is down a little ways."

Elena's face twisted up into a snarl of annoyance and ire, and she turned around.

Caroline Forbes and a couple of her lackeys were standing a little ways behind her, each of them carrying drinks and wearing their ridiculous cheerleading uniforms.

"Kind of a low blow, even for you, Caroline," Elena snarled, her fingernails digging into her palms. "Then again, didn't you fuck everyone on the football team? Or was it the _basketball_ team?"

People nearby had started to gather. Elena could hear their excited whispering and see them from the light of the moon and stars. She knew it was too dark and dangerous to be standing her by herself against Caroline and all of her "minions," but she just couldn't help herself. If Caroline wanted to throw shade, then Elena was gonna show the stupid blonde bitch her hands.

"I don't even know why Bonnie still wants to try to be friends with you," Caroline scoffed, shaking her head in disgust. "You're complete and utter _trash_ , Elena. All you do is smoke weed and _cry_ about how miserable your pathetic life is."

Elena couldn't help it. She was taken aback by her former best friend's words. She had known Caroline could be cruel, but to be that hurtful?

How could she?

"My parents _died_ , Caroline," Elena protested, her face covered in awe.

Caroline took a sip of her drink, eyebrows raised. Then, after removing the cup from her lips, she said, "And whose fault is that?"

Elena lost her shit.

Practically flying across the distance between them, the brunette attacked the blonde. She grabbed her hair with as much viciousness as she could muster, even though her bruised body screamed in protest, and she began punching Caroline's face with her other hand. Caroline cried out, her drink flying out of her hand and splashing all over one of her friends, who of course began to sob like a little girl. Elena and Caroline tumbled to the grass on the ground, Caroline landing atop Elena. She gained traction and pinned Elena down, her sky blue eyes blazing with rage.

Elena glared up at her, gathered up her saliva in her mouth, and launched it up into Caroline's face.

Immediately, the blonde teen went wild, curving her fingers into clawlike shapes and raking her nails across Elena's face. Elena felt her cheek burning white-hot as the skin split, her blood beading up in the furrows, and she fought back. The two girls tumbled around and around, over each other in a tangle of kicking legs and punching hands. All around them, people were snapping photos or taking Snapchat videos, laughing and cheering. Egging it all on.

Elena was so full of anger that it was blinding her with red. All she wanted to do was hurt Caroline. To pulverize her into a pulp for everything she had said, everything she had done. To punish her for leaving their friendship when Elena needed it the most. To punch the memory of Elena's face so deep into her mind that she could never forget it.

Elena felt hands gripping her hips from behind, lifting her struggling body into the air as though it weighed nothing. There were a few choruses of dismayed " _awww_ "s as people realized the fight was being broken up. Elena pushed whoever's hands they were away from her and glowered at the one who had pulled Caroline to her feet.

"Tyler Lockwood," she hissed.

The raven-haired, muscular football player ignored her, paying more attention to Caroline than to anyone else. It made Elena detest him even more. The way he was looking at Caroline - like they were in a relationship - told Elena that she was right about him from the beginning.

"You're a crazy bitch, you know that?" Caroline screamed, wiping blood off of her nose. Tears were streaming down her face as countless eyes stared at Elena. Elena felt as though she were a statue on display and just like that, reality began to crash down upon her. Everyone was judging her, thinking she was an even more worthless person than they had originally thought, and it made all of the pain from her bruises assail her at once. She swayed slightly on her feet and stumbled backward, hugging her arms around her trembling body.

Just before she completely collapsed, the person who was standing behind her caught her, hands on her elbows, and she felt their breath tickling her ear.

"I got you," it whispered, husky and velvet-smooth.

Elena's head lolled back onto the person's shoulder. She wasn't losing consciousness, but she was in so much pain that she wished she could just black out. The person embracing her led her out of the area where everyone was watching them in stunned silence. She heard the voices and sounds of the party fading into the trees and then finally, they were at the edge of the river.

Elena sank down to her knees, running both of her hands through her hair and trying to remain calm. She was still angry, the fire of it pounding in her head. She wished she never had to go back to that school.

When she looked up, her heart nearly ceased its wild beating.

"S-Stefan?" she stammered, embarrassment coloring her darker. "This is so awkward. You just met and you already had to pull me out of a fight."

He offered her a half of a smile and grabbed the dark blue handkerchief that was hanging out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans. He handed it to her without saying anything, and she thanked him quietly. She began to wipe the blood off of her cheek and from some of the scratches on her chest where Caroline's fingernails had caught her. Stefan was watching her, his eyes following the movements of her hands. She paused for a moment, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked.

Stefan looked away quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck abashedly, obviously embarrassed at having been caught.

"I, uhh . . . Blood makes me queasy," he said, and it was so bizarre to hear him sounding so vulnerable when he was normally the "cool kid," that she had to stifle her laugh.

"Thanks for rescuing me back there," Elena joked, holding the handkerchief out to him but then thinking better of it and setting it on the grass beside her. She noticed his eyes lingering on it as he stood there and she tried again not to laugh. For some reason, she found it amusing that the "cool kid" with leather jackets and black skinny jeans was nauseous around blood.

"No problem," he said, tearing his eyes away from the handkerchief to look at her. "Though you didn't really look like you needed much rescuing."

Elena rolled her eyes. "It was my first fight, don't flatter me."

Stefan arched his eyebrow and grinned. "You say that as if it's not going to be your last?"

Elena was unable to keep her giggles inside, so she covered her mouth with one hand. "In the case of Caroline Forbes, it probably won't be!"

"I don't know her well, but from what I can tell, I believe you," Stefan said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Elena sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was having a hard time looking at his handsome face without freaking out, so she chose instead to look up at the only thing that seemed to bring her joy that night: the stars.

"It's so weird how different things are," she said softly. "Caroline and I used to be best friends. Now, she's kicking my ass at a party."

Stefan replied, "Kinda seemed like you weren't the one getting your ass kicked, Elena."

Elena shot him a look, giggling again. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The two of them laughed for a moment before Stefan sat down beside her, just like he had the night before when they'd met. He stretched his legs out and put his hands on the grass behind him, relaxing backward, continuing to stargaze.

"This has been the weirdest first day of school ever," Elena murmured, faintly feeling the pain in her bruised body warring with the numbing feelings of the alcohol and marijuana that she'd smoked.

"This is . . . Definitely the most exciting high school I've ever been to," Stefan marveled. "And I've been to a lot."

Something about the way he had stressed the "a lot" piqued Elena's curiosity and since she wanted this time with Stefan to last as long as possible, she decided to ask him about it.

"How many have you been to?" she asked, gingerly massaging her upper arms through her jacket. The contusions on them were aching, reminding her to be realistic about how much she could handle that night.

Stefan was silent for a long moment, almost like he was counting them out in his head.

"A lot," was all he said.

Elena felt sad for him. She wondered more about his family. Who was Damon Salvatore, the guy from her house? And how often had Stefan moved to where he couldn't even mention the number of high schools he'd been to out loud?

More importantly, was he going to move again anytime soon?

She shook _that_ thought away. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, or think that someone like Stefan could like someone like her. She didn't want to let her bad thoughts interfere, but it was hard when she was in so much pain that she could hardly breathe. Pain that was reminding her of everything bad she had ever done. And the truth was, she didn't really know Stefan. She had just met him a day ago. How could she like someone so much already that it was interfering in her self-esteem?

"You okay?"

She looked at him, feeling mortified. She knew he couldn't read her thoughts, but she still felt like he could. Like they were on display for everyone to see.

"I'm all right, I guess," she said, pulling her hair over the front of her right shoulder. "Just drained."

Stefan nodded, smirking. "It must be tiring going from being tipsy in the woods, smoking weed, and talking about time travel, to getting into a catfight with your ex-best friend."

Elena smiled, but she was surprised. How did Stefan know about her conversation with her stoner friends? She had seen every single person in the clearing and if Stefan had been there, she definitely would have been aware of it.

"It must be tiring being a creeper who follows me around at parties without actually saying hi," Elena teased, nudging him lightly in the side with her elbow.

He smiled shyly "Just call me Richard Ramirez."

Elena arched her brow. "Oh? You got serial killer jokes? You're really living up to the image that leather jacket promotes."

Stefan threw his head back and laughed heartily. "Really? My leather jacket promotes Satan worship and torture? Really? Okay, Elena."

Elena fell into a fit of laughter that was so real that it scared her. She hadn't truly laughed in months, and to be here, laughing with someone who wasn't disappointed in her for any of the bad things he'd seen her do so far, was therapeutic. She sighed contentedly and turned her face toward the river.

"You know, all of that stuff doesn't really fix anything," Stefan said quietly, prompting Elena to turn her head to look at him. He was gazing right back at her, his brow furrowed in seriousness, his eyes smoldering with sincerity. "I know it feels like it fixes things, but it doesn't."

Elena felt her defenses starting to tingle and she fought the urge to throw them up. She felt uncomfortable, but not in a way that made her dislike him. She knew what he was doing. He was sensing things in her that she wanted to keep hidden and while she was shocked that he was able to do that when no one else could, it scared her.

She felt naked.

"I just do it to have fun," Elena said, pulling her hood back up (it had fallen off during the fight with Caroline). She stared blankly at the water, allowing herself to drown in the throbbing agony her body was in for a moment.

"Fun? That's not fun, Elena," Stefan said, sitting up straighter and resting his elbows nonchalantly on his knees. "Fun is going on a joyride in the country with the top of your convertible down. Fun is going to a really good show and rocking out to music that means something to you. Fun is . . . It's doing something that truly brings you joy and makes you feel better about the circumstances your life is in. What you do is destructive."

Elena felt her entire body grow hot as the anxiety prickled its way across the back of her neck and shoulders. What did he know? He was good-looking and he made her laugh, but really? Elena didn't need yet _another_ person telling her she was wasting her life away. Not a single person could possibly understand what it was like to carry the amount of guilt she was carrying, so there's no way that Stefan, a guy who she'd just met, could possibly see through her walls and right into the center of her.

"What the fuck?" she snapped. "All I do is smoke weed and drink alcohol, which is what everyone else and their friggin' _mother_ are doing at the party we're currently _at_."

Stefan looked sad but determined. "Elena, it's one thing to do something to forget. It's another thing entirely to do something to erase."

"Erase?!" Elena whirled on him, about to get up and flee. She couldn't believe how fast this had gone South but she was so offended and angry that she couldn't dwell on it. "Erase _what_? You don't fucking _know_ me!"

Stefan held her stare for a moment before he murmured. "Elena, don't get defensive. You don't have to be defensive with me. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Elena almost lost her control right there and she knew that she needed to dip out. Who _was_ this guy, and was she in some alternate universe? Some weird dimension where you only needed to know someone for one day and then you knew every single little thing about them? What was he going to pull next? The "I care about you and just wanna help you" so he could get into her pants? He was hot, but no thanks.

"Elena, come on," Stefan complained, getting up and grabbing her hand to stop her.

Elena wrenched herself out of his grasp and whirled on him, her hair fanning out around her body as she did so.

"Don't act like you know me, Stefan," she growled, eyes on fire.

"I'm sorry, Elena, I just feel like I . . . Like we've met before, I -"

"Let me guess," she sneered, cutting him off. "Like déja vu? Where'd you come up with that? After listening to the conversation I had with my friends over there? Original."

He took a step back and lowered his gaze, seeming ashamed. Elena wanted to believe he was being genuine, but she just . . . Couldn't. After everything she had been through, she didn't _want_ to let anyone in. She didn't want to get hurt worse than she already had been.

That, and there wasn't a single guy on this planet who would meet a girl and act like they knew their deepest secrets unless they had an ulterior motive.

' _This virgin is_ _ **not**_ _going to be tricked by some stupid fuckboy,'_ she thought doggedly as she stormed away toward the trees where the party was still raging.

Unfortunately, she was so blinded by offense that she didn't see the thick, gnarled root of a tree sticking up out of the ground. Because of this, her foot tangled in it and she went tumbling headfirst toward the ground and another root that was sticking up slightly higher than the other. She cried out in terror, fully expecting her head to collide with the branch and blackness to envelop her.

When the impending pain she had expected to her face never came, and instead a bone-rattling pain came from the bruises on her sides, Elena nearly panicked. Elena opened her tightly-squeezed eyes and realized that Stefan's hands were holding her up, pulling her back onto her feet and it hurt so badly that she wanted to faint.

"Let _go_ of me!" she shrieked, slapping his hands away as fast as she could. He did, and she stood there, massaging her sides in the spots where he had touched her. She glared at him, wanting nothing more than be as far away from him as possible. She wasn't sure if he had held her too tightly or if it was the bruises from earlier, but she was just so done with this night that she didn't care.

"S-Sorry," he breathed. "I guess I don't know my own s-strength . . ."

"Yeah!" Elena practically shouted. "No fucking kidding, you asshole!"

"Jesus, Elena," someone nearby said. "Put the tiger back in the cage."

Elena ignored them, regarding Stefan warily. She looked at where they had been sitting near the water and at where he was currently standing and wondered how the Hell he had gotten to her fast enough to be able to catch her like that. She opened her mouth to ask him, but was stopped when a chorus of blood-curdling screams came booming through the trees.

Puzzled, both Stefan and Elena looked in the direction that the screaming had come from, and that was when she heard it. When she did, her blood ran cold as ice.

" _Help! Someone call an ambulance_! _Jeremy Gilbert's hurt!"_

Elena took off running without another second to spare.

 **ooo**

 _"When you write a book, sister, you can fix your mistakes. With a spell . . . You can't."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue it because it doesn't seem like very many people like it. But I decided I'm going to continue because I spent hours and days stressing over the plot, and I'm not just going to give up when I have a lot planned for this story.**

 **I'm going to start putting chapter warnings in the chapter BEFORE so that you know the next chapter that comes out will have trigger warnings applied to it. So, I will now warn you that the next chapter will contain abuse and slight violent themes. (edit: this did say sexual themes for the next chapter, but it didn't end up happening so don't worry - no sexual stuff yet!)**

 **Also, when I wrote about her panicking and feeling that heat flash and the "prickling," that was from experience. I have mild Anxiety Disorder and I am Agoraphobic (meaning I have a fear of leaving the house unless it's completely unavoidable, and even then, I have Anxiety while I'm outside), so when I have my little panic attacks, they aren't typical "I can't breathe, help me" panic attacks. I get hot flashes, my heart beats SUPER fast, I lose my breath and have to take deep breaths in order to breathe, and I get a weird prickling feeling all over my shoulders and the back of my neck and I feel intensely uncomfortable.**

 **As for reviews, please let me know what you think!**

 **Thanks, all!**


	6. Thanatos

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **This World**_ **" - Lena Fayre**

* * *

 **Chapter Five - Thanatos**

 **ooo**

"Despise not death, but welcome it, for nature wills it like all else."

\- Marcus Aurelius

 **ooo**

' _Please help him be okay . . .'_

Elena tuned out the loud shouts of everyone around as she and countless other partygoers ran in the direction of the screaming. Her heart pounded rapidly, fast as a motor, and each foot hit the ground with force. All of the earlier pain from her wounds had faded away into the back of her mind, her hysteria lording everything else. Her steps propelled her forward as her eyes searched. All she could see in her mind was Jeremy. Nothing else mattered but Jeremy.

She couldn't lose him, too.

Everything was getting more hectic by the second. There was screaming coming from every direction, it was dark, and the crowd was thick where the trees were thin. In a panic, Elena skidded to a halt and buried her face in her hands. She rubbed her cheeks, desperate to calm herself down. She looked to her left and right, frantically trying to decide which direction was the best to go in.

"Elena!" someone yelled.

Elena whirled around and Bonnie was there, her eyes wild.

"Bonnie, I can't find him, I . . . I need to _find_ him. Jeremy, I . . ." Elena cried, one arm thrown out into the air and the other with its fingers tangled in her hair in distress. She didn't care that her and Bonnie weren't friends anymore. At this point, she only cared about one person.

Her little brother, Jeremy.

"He's at your family plot," Bonnie said, grabbing Elena's wrist and starting off at a brisk walk in that direction, which was opposite the way everyone else seemed to be going. Her long, wavy hair flew out behind her head as she went. Elena was so terrified for Jeremy that she trusted Bonnie wholeheartedly in that moment. She didn't know if she was telling the truth, if this was some horrible trick from Caroline, but she just needed to find Jeremy.

"Why is this happening?" Elena whispered, more to herself to than anyone else.

A small group of people were gathered near the entrance to the Gilbert family mausoleum, half of them knelt over someone that was lying on the ground. Elena could see that Stefan was there, standing off to the side and looking paler than normal. Elena briefly wondered how he had managed to make it here before her when everyone was going the other way from the main part of the party, but then the horror of the moment came rushing back.

"It's him, Elena, it's Jeremy!" Bonnie wailed, tugging on her arm and pointing.

Elena felt her stomach drop and she immediately broke free of Bonnie's grip, dashing forward to get to the person. She saw for herself that it was Jeremy when she got there, so she shoved everyone out of the way and fell to her knees beside him.

It was a nightmare come to life.

His body was intact but there was a large, gaping gash on the side of his throat. Blood and gore caked the length of his shoulder and the front of his shirt, the crimson liquid staining everything darker. The edges of the wound were ragged, coated in sanguine fluid and putrid, mottled chunks of muscle and flesh. Elena tried not to feel sick to her stomach as he coughed meekly and began to tremble. His slight movements caused the bits of shorn flesh inside of his throat quiver, and Elena could swear she was seeing his esophagus before her very eyes.

"Elena, the ambulance is on its way," someone said, their voice shaking.

"Jeremy, it's gonna be okay," she whimpered, though she couldn't tell if he was alive. His eyes were closed and when she rested her head on his chest, she couldn't hear a heartbeat. She was in full-blown anxiety mode now, seconds away from hyperventilation. In the background, she heard the sirens come whirling up to where the road was.

"Elena, the paramedics can't get through the trees!" someone yelled.

"We have to carry him," Elena said quickly, her thoughts moving lightning fast. She looked to Bonnie, who nodded determinedly. They made as if to lift him together, but suddenly Stefan was there, his hand gripping Elena's wrist to stop her. For some reason, it steadied her wild emotions.

He gazed into her eyes with complete and utter seriousness and said, "I'll do it."

At first, Elena wanted to scream at him for everything that had happened earlier, but she stopped herself. Somehow, she knew she could trust him. So she nodded to Bonnie and the crowd that had gathered moved back so Stefan could lift Jeremy into his arms. Elena knew blood made him queasy, but she figured he was probably stomaching it so Jeremy's life could be saved. Stefan then headed through the trees, a huge gaggle of partygoers at his heels. Elena and Bonnie followed, though neither girl spoke to one another.

Elena had no idea what had happened, but she just wanted her brother to be okay.

 **ooo**

Getting Jeremy into the Emergency Room was a blur. Elena had chosen to ride in the ambulance while Stefan had offered to drive Bonnie with him to the hospital. Elena didn't know where the partygoers had gone, and she didn't really care. Once she was in the ambulance, she was allowed to do nothing but sit beside him while the two pramedics barked things at each other and poked needles into him. Their main goal was to stabilize him, and all she could do was watch. Elena merely sat there, trembling violently with trepidation as she watched them work, wondering how in the Hell Jeremy could possibly be okay with all that carnage on his throat.

After the doctors in the E.R. wheeled Jeremy to surgery, Elena took a seat in the waiting room, hyper-aware that others sitting there staring at her. She looked down at saw her hands were covered in her brother's blood along with a few tiny bits of gore from his shirt, and the side of her head and hair were decorated the same. She took a shaky breath, staring at the mess on her palms and fingers, and tried not to scream. Her breaths came in short, fast spurts.

She was literally covered in her brother's bloody, torn _flesh_.

Just then, a doctor came out through the double doors, asking for a Gilbert. Elena rushed over to him, holding her messy hands in front of her awkwardly.

"Is he okay?" she breathed out.

The doctor pressed his lips together in a tight line, sighing.

"They tried everything."

Elena couldn't breathe.

"He . . . He lost a lot of blood."

She couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't _think_.

"We lost him for a little bit. Not that long, but it was long enough. We were able to bring him back, but he might not wake up."

"Are you sure?" Elena choked out.

The doctor nodded. "He may not last the day. There's no way. With the damage to his throat and windpipe, he could survive temporarily with oxygen and a feeding tube, but it's not likely. Sometimes, patients do, but he lost so much blood that he would need a transfusion. One that he wouldn't be able to survive, what with the damage to his throat."

"Wh-why?"

"The extent of the damage," the doctor said, shaking his head morosely. "I'm sorry. You can visit him shortly. I would call any family members as soon as possible."

Elena turned around and walked back to the chairs, her mind in so much shock that it was rejecting the words she had just heard. She was shaking so violently that it hurt her already-bruised body. Her nostrils were full of the pungent, coppery scent of her last remaining immediate family member's blood. Everything was numb.

"Hey, calm down," she heard a voice say in her ear, and then suddenly she wasn't seeing her hands anymore. In a daze, she looked each way and saw Stefan and Bonnie. Bonnie, with her hands covering Elena's to hide the horror. Stefan, with one arm on the chair behind her and his other hand on her chin, tilting her face upward. She gazed into his emerald green eyes, and everything seemed to fade away.

"Are you gonna compel her?" Bonnie asked, her hands strong and firm on Elena's.

"Yeah," Stefan answered. "Are you sure we should do this, Bonnie?"

"Yes," Bonnie answered, as though Elena wasn't there. "Whatever attacked Jeremy wanted him to die, and Elena can't lose anyone else. You have to do this."

"And what if she's angry later?"

Elena wanted to ask what was going on, but she was lost in Stefan's eyes. Lost and floating in nothingness. Nothing existed except for him. She was afraid because she _wanted_ to move and to question them, but she just . . . Well, _couldn't_.

"She'll be angrier if she loses him and finds out later that we could have done something about it," Stefan replied to Bonnie.

"You're right," the ravenette nodded. "Okay, let's get this over with. You go in his room and save him, Stefan, and don't come back until you do. Hurry."

Completely perplexed, Elena tried to look at Bonnie but Stefan wouldn't release her face from his hold. All she could do was look at his eyes and focus on him.

"Everything is going to be okay," Stefan said soothingly, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You're going to go clean yourself up in the bathroom with Bonnie, and you're going to forget you ever saw me in the hospital. Jeremy is fine. There was a little scare on the surgeon's table, but Jeremy pulled through."

Bonnie added, "Can you compel her not to be scared when Jeremy wakes up?"

Stefan shook his head. "It wouldn't be right. For it to be real, she has to accept it under her own free will."

Bonnie nodded, and then Stefan looked away, breaking the connection. In an eerily-calm stupor, Elena allowed Bonnie to lead her out of the waiting room and down the hall to a bathroom. She felt and thought of nothing as Bonnie led her up to one of the many sinks and turned on the water.

"Go ahead and wash off, Elena," Bonnie said softly, leaving her to get paper towels from the nearby wall.

Elena blinked a couple of times, feeling a bit confused for a moment before everything cleared up.

Man, was she happy that Jeremy made it through the surgery okay. It was worrisome that he'd gone through the scare on the table, but it meant little to her now that Jeremy was going to be okay. And even though Elena didn't want to trust Bonnie, it was nice of her to be there for support. The status of their friendship could be dealt with later.

As the remnants of her brother's flesh washed down the sink in a red whirpool, Elena felt her anxiety slowly leaving her.

"I'm glad Jeremy's okay," she said, wanting the awkward silence to be broken. Her hands now free of gore, she began to clean out her hair.

"Yeah," Bonnie said brightly, offering her the paper towels once everything was fresh and clean. Elena took them, returning the smile.

"So you rode here with Stefan, right?" Elena asked, remembering how he'd volunteered to drive Bonnie behind the ambulance. "Is he here, or did he go home?"

"Uh, he went home I think," Bonnie said. She turned to the sink and began to wash her own hands off.

Elena waited for her, not wanting to be alone for even a second. She viewed her hands a bit apprehensively, knowing that she'd probably never forget what it felt like to look down and see parts of her brother on them. She gulped and exhaled heavily, already feeling the pain from her bruises trickling back into her body. She tried to push it away, though, for she still needed to see Jeremy with her own two eyes in his hospital room. _Before_ the hospital contacted Uncle John and Aunt Jenna.

If she had thought _today_ was bad . . . She knew tomorrow was going to be _much_ worse.

"Look, Elena," Bonnie began, and even though Elena didn't want to deal with it, she decided to let her talk.

Bonnie went on, "I know things between us didn't go very well this Summer. I know you were hurting and I wasn't there for you. And for that, I'm truly sorry. I just didn't know how to deal with it, you know?"

Elena lowered her gaze. "It was hard for everyone. I wasn't exactly the nicest person." Then, she frowned. "But why did you take Caroline's side after what she did with Matt?"

"I don't know," Bonnie replied, running her hand through her hair while she placed her other hand on her hip. "I was . . . Confused, I guess. I don't . . ."

Elena crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. Was Bonnie serious? She wanted Elena's forgiveness, but she couldn't even come up with a good explanation for why she'd left Elena to deal with her parents' deaths on her own?

"You know what, Bonnie?" Elena said, backing away toward the door. "I didn't need a miracle this Summer. What I needed was a friend."

Bonnie stood there in dumbfounded shock as Elena left the room, leaving things unchanged between them.

 **ooo**

Elena stood at the window of Jeremy's room, watching nurses hooking him up to his IV and checking his vitals. They hadn't allowed anyone to enter yet, so she was forced to stand and wait until she could. She kept her arms folded under her chest, chewing on her lower lip in a nervous manner. She couldn't help but be worried. What if he didn't wake up like the doctor had said he would? What if she lost him?

"Hey."

Elena glanced to her right and saw Stefan walking down the hall toward her. He was still wearing his black skinny jeans and leather jacket, and both the jacket and his white V-neck were stained with vermillion blood. Elena averted her eyes.

"You haven't showered yet?" she mumbled, remembering how she'd yelled at him earlier. She couldn't decide if she was still mad at him or not, especially since he had helped to carry her brother to the ambulance. After all, most of her anger with him had spawned from her fear of letting people in. And even though she had just met him a day ago, she couldn't deny that she wasn't exactly unhappy to see him there.

Stefan looked down at his shirt and then rubbed his neck, a nervous habit that Elena was beginning to recognize as something he did a lot.

"Oh . . . Yeah," he said, his lips twisting upward. "Sorry about that, I dropped off Bonnie at the doors and then went to park. I just came back in."

"Why?" Elena asked, her eyes not leaving the scene of the nurses bustling about Jeremy's bed.

"Why what?"

"I mean, why are you here?" Elena turned to look at him, arms still folded. "I yelled at you and freaked out. Why would you stick around?"

Stefan shrugged, his longish hair lying flat on his head from the events of the hectic night. Elena still thought he looked handsome, though, even if she didn't trust him.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was because I like to get really close to my victims before I kidnap them?" Stefan asked, chuckling.

Elena tried to hide her smile by looking back at her brother's window. "Oh, he still got jokes. Okay."

"I'm just trying to make you feel better," Stefan said. "I'm sorry. I'll leave, though . . . If you want."

Elena didn't say anything, trying to think of a good reason for him to leave. She eventually shook her head. Today had been a shitty day.

"No," she said decidedly. "I can go back to being a royal bitch tomorrow."

Just then, Bonnie walked up. She went to Elena's side and linked her arm through hers. Elena stared at her in surprise, and the shorter girl smiled up at her faintly.

"Tonight, she needs a friend," Bonnie said softly.

Elena smiled back and nodded, and then all three of them went back to looking through the window.

The nurses came out and told them that only family could go into the room, so Elena extracted her arm from Bonnie's. She gave both Stefan and Bonnie another warm smile.

"Thanks, you guys," she said sincerely. "For everything."

Bonnie pushed her hair behind her ears. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Elena answered. "You guys probably wanna go home and bathe, anyway."

"Chyeah," Stefan laughed. He then reached out and placed his hand on Elena's shoulder. She felt her heart flutter for a moment as she looked up into the much taller boy's eyes. "I'm glad Jeremy's okay, Elena."

Elena could only nod and then wave as Bonnie and him walked away down the hallway together. She saw them immediately fall into conversation with one another and for some reason, it seemed odd to Elena. They seemed pretty talkative for two people who didn't know each other.

That is, unless they _did_ know each other.

Elena tilted her head curiously as she wondered again to herself how Stefan had made it to her family's cemetery plot before her, and how he had gotten from the riverbank all the way to the woods in less than a second to stop her mid-fall.

Just then, Elena began to sway on her feet slightly, and it caused her to dissolve the thoughts in her mind. None of that was important at the moment. She was probably just hallucinating, anyway. She had smoked a lot of weed and drank a ton of beer that night, so who knew what she had actually seen?

Elena went into Jeremy's room, standing beside the sleeping boy's hospital bed in silence. She held her brother's hand in hers and tried not to collapse from the sheer thought of how close she'd come to losing him. Life already sucked without their parents, and she didn't think she could live with Uncle John without Jeremy there. She didn't know what she'd do without Jeremy waking her up in the mornings when she ignored her alarms. Or without their arguments in the morning while brushing their teeth, or the rare times when he tried to be a big brother even though she was the elder sibling. Elena didn't want to live without the good or the bad and it petrified her that she'd almost experienced that.

"I hope you wake up soon, Jer," Elena whispered. "I don't want to have to face Uncle John without you."

Jeremy was laid out in the bed, eyes closed and still covered in blood that had yet to be washed off. He was hooked up to all sorts of machinery and the steady beep of the heart monitor was a gentle reminder of the fact that Jeremy was going to be okay. But in spite of all that, there was one glaring problem.

Where was his neck wound?

Elena couldn't keep herself from staring directly at the place on his neck that she was _sure_ had been mangled beyond hope of healing at the cemetery. She could distinctly remember everything about it: the atrocious gash, wide and jagged around the edges as though something had sunk its teeth in and tore the flesh outward. Blood and meat had covered everything around it and now, all that remained was dried blood upon a smooth surface.

How was that possible? Had she truly been _that_ cross-faded? _Really_?

"Elena."

Elena froze and squeezed her eyes shut, all thoughts of Jeremy's now-disappeared wound rushing away. She supposed this moment was going to come sooner or later. She took a deep breath and turned to face her uncle.

Uncle John stood in the doorway of the hospital room, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over his broad chest. He fixed Elena with a stern glare. Even though outwardly, he seemed calm, Elena could see the storm that was brewing within his eyes. She knew that when this was all over, she was going to have to answer for her mistakes.

"What happened?" he asked slowly.

Elena stepped aside as Uncle John came to the side of the bed. She bit back the urge to give him a snarky remark. Normally, she would but tonight it just seemed unnecessary.

"He was attacked by an animal," she said quietly, fiddling with her fingernails in front of herself.

Uncle John took the sleeping Jeremy's hand in his own, his eyes gazing down at the boy intently.

"An animal," he repeated. "Hm."

"The . . . The doctor said he'd be okay," Elena said, her voice faltering when Uncle John turned to fix her with his withering stare. She took a shaky step backward. As tough as she was, she didn't want to experience another beating like the one she'd had today. "W-We're just w-waiting for him to . . . To wake up . . ."

"And where, might I ask, did this animal attack take place?" he asked, his voice lowering dangerously.

Elena wanted to keep looking him in the eyes - she really did. She wanted to show him that she wasn't afraid. But after everything that had happened to her today, she just couldn't handle anything more. She was tired, in pain, and traumatized by seeing Jeremy the way she had when he was lying in the woods. She was overwhelmed by the fact that he was miraculously healed, and not in a way that made sense for a surgery. And she was exhausted - _so exhausted_ \- from being in constant agony all night, covered in purple and green bruises that she had recieved just for being her own independent self.

So she just looked at the ground and told the truth, because maybe Uncle John had succeeded in beating her into submission. Just this once.

But she would never let it happen again.

"The woods," she said softly. "At the cemetery."

"And _why_ were you at the cemetery?" Uncle John scoffed and turned to face her fully. He put his hands on his hips.

"We went to a party."

"To a party," Uncle John repeated, shaking his head. He scowled. "You know, Elena, I'm just curious . . . And correct me if I'm wrong, but . . ."

Elena gasped when his hand lashed out and grabbed onto her upper right arm, his fingers digging into her bruises like a vice. It caused fresh waves of pain to shoot through her body, stealing the breath from her lungs and causing her to see stars. He lifted her up onto her tiptoes, causing _more_ pain, and she found herself clawing at his arm in an attempt to free herself before she passed out.

"Did I or did I not beat the shit out of you in order to show you that you do as _I_ say?" he snarled, his face inches away from her own. Elena could smell alcohol.

Elena could only nod. "Please . . . Let go," she managed to choke out.

Uncle John shook her a little bit. "Does going to a party in the woods seem like something I'd say you could do?"

Elena shook her head, her teeth clenching together in order to steel herself against the pain.

"Answer me," he hissed.

"N-No," Elena said.

"No _what_?"

Elena's breathing hitched out of fear and she said, "No, it doesn't."

He held her arm for a few moments longer in order to stamp it into her mind and then he finally - blessedly - let her go. She gasped in relief and ran to the small bathroom in the hospital room, unzipping her bloodied jacket so she could look at her arm. She twisted around and tried not to feel ill at the bruises.

"You need to learn, Elena," Uncle John said loudly from the main part of the room. "In my house, this nonsense won't be tolerated any longer."

Elena walked out of the bathroom and back into the room, taking a seat in one of the chairs by the wall. She placed her hands on her knees and gazed intently at the floor.

"Elena," John said in sing-song manner, prompting her to look up at him. "This is _your_ fault, you know."

Elena turned her head to the side but remained silent.

' _I know_ . . .' she thought miserably.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to flinch when Uncle John came to sit down in the chair next to hers. She went rigid, leaning slightly to the side in her own way of trying to get as far away from him as she could in the chair. Unfortunately for her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Elena, I just want you to know that even though you continuously disappoint me, I _do_ love you," he said. "I just want you to have the best life possible and you can't do that if you're running around, going to parties and doing whatever you want."

Elena said nothing.

He continued, "I'm sorry that I had to do what I did, but you have to understand that I had no other option. You couldn't get away with it any longer. What kind of parent would I be if I didn't do right by you?"

"You're not my parent, though," Elena said, keeping her voice at a carefully low level. She didn't want to upset him and cause him to hurt her again, but to hear him call himself that disgusted her.

"Elena, you may be my niece, but I am your guardian. It's my job to parent you. To get you to 18 so that you can be a successful adult. So that you can go to college and get your own place. But you spent your entire summer smoking, drinking, and sneaking out. Luckily, it was just the summer, but now that the school year has started, we can't afford to jeopardize your grades."

Elena shook her head incredulously. She couldn't believe how much this man repulsed her. Who was he to talk about her like this? Like he knew her? Like she was just some failure and a waste of space in eveyone's lives? Still, she kept her mouth shut. She had to.

"Don't worry, though. I think from now on, you'll have learned your lesson." Uncle John sighed contentedly, squeezing her shoulders. "After seeing your brother like that, you'll never sneak out again."

When Elena didn't speak, he said the words Elena was dreading.

"Let me rephrase that, Elena, my dear niece." He crossed his legs casually, as though they were just sitting in the pews at church. "The next time you step out of line, your beating won't be with my fists."

A few feet away, Jeremy Gilbert opened his eyes for the first time.

 **ooo**

 _"I don't care about what happens after, sister. Consequences be damned, I won't lose you."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whoop! Two chapters in a week! Lol. What did you guys think? The plot is thickening! Bonnie and Stefan seem very well-acquainted, oh ho ho!**

 **Also, the last line about Jeremy makes sense if you really think about it, wink wink.**

 **And Thanatos is the Greek god of peaceful death. All he had to do was touch them and then they would die. It will make sense come next chapter.**


	7. Orbital

**There is definitely typos. Will fix them later, along with the typos in previous chapters.**

 **Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Glass Arrows**_ **" - Circa Survive**

* * *

 **Chapter Six - Orbital**

 **ooo**

"Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn."

\- Mahatma Gandhi

 **ooo**

Everything was on fire.

Every nerve ending, every vein, every bone, every blood vessel . . . All of it was aflame with pulsating, deep-rooted pain the likes of which Jeremy Gilbert had never experienced. The moment his eyelids fluttered open, he wished he could sink back into unconsciousness because this - _this_ \- was pure torture.

His vision swimming, he sat up and looked around the room. It was clear from the beeping heart monitor and white-washed _everything_ that he was in the hospital, though he was having a difficult time remembering why. He saw Elena standing in the corner of the room next to their Uncle John, the two of them having leapt up from their chairs the moment he woke up. He tried to speak but found that his jaws ached so badly that the slightest touch of his tongue to them made him wish he'd never had teeth to begin with. He held a hand gingerly to his chin, completely and utterly confused.

"It's so great to see that you're awake, Jeremy," Uncle John said, coming to the side of the bed.

As he leaned closer, Jeremy was alarmed to hear his heart beating so loudly that it was as if it were on his sleeve. He stared at his chest, mollified, and then looked over at Elena as she, too walked over. She had an unfamiliar look on her face, but in her eyes, he could see relief.

What had happened?

"How are you feeling?" Elena asked quietly. She looked as though she wanted to come closer, but the fact that she kept throwing their Uncle nervous glances was proof that she wasn't going to. Jeremy tried not to be too startled by the fact that he could hear her heart beating, too, and he remained calm.

"Like crap," he answered truthfully, pushing past the pain in his jaws. "What happened to me? I feel like I got punched in the face by a rock giant."

Both of his family members appeared puzzled.

"Punched?" Elena repeated, shaking her head slowly. "No, Jeremy, you were attacked by an animal in the woods."

Jeremy's eyebrows shot up and he resumed rubbing his throbbing mandibles. "Really? Wow. That's not how I feel."

"What about your throat?" Uncle Gilbert asked. "You have a pretty large amount of blood there."

Jeremy had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn't even remember getting attacked, as Elena said, nor could he remember the end of the party they'd attended. His entire body was in agony and he could literally _hear_ the light. In fact, he felt as though he could hear the entire _hospital_ , though he knew that was insane. He felt a weird wriggling in his arm and when he looked down, all he saw was the I.V. sticking harmlessly out of his skin. With a grimace, he ripped it out because it felt like it was spitting worms out into his body.

"Jeremy!" Uncle John scolded, grabbing the I.V. and Jeremy's arm. "What are you doing?! That can't be taken out!"

Jeremy watched in horror as his Uncle prepared to place the I.V. back in his arm, as though he were skilled enough to just slide it back in the correct spot. He felt no pain as his Uncle pricked him more than once in the _wrong_ spot, and only found that a rage was bubbling up within him. A rage that would go unchecked if he let it grow.

And let it grow, he did.

It happened in less than two seconds. Elena tried to protect Jeremy by making a grab for Uncle John's wrist. Uncle John lashed backward and caught Elena across the face so hard that she went toppling backward and almost collapsed. Her face was stinging and Jeremy could practically see the blood rushing up to cause the area where she had been struck to turn pink, adding to his rage. Uncle John whirled on her, screaming at her not to touch him and be disrespectful. Jeremy saw Elena cowering on the floor before him with her eyes downcast in a manner that was much unlike her normally-rebellious self. Jeremy's fury boiled over and he pulled aside his blankets, swung his legs onto the floor, and propelled himself toward his Uncle. Jeremy slammed him up against the wall, his hands wrapped around his throat as he pushed him upward. Jeremy was baring his teeth at him like an animal, his eyes blazing, and all of this in _less than two seconds_.

Uncle John was choking, gasping for breath as his eyes regarded his nephew with terror. His hands pulled at Jeremy's, trying desperately to get a grip on his survival.

"Jeremy," Elena breathed, slowly placing a hand on Jeremy's skin. "Calm down."

He felt her fingers upon him like ice and it snapped him out of his reverie. He let his Uncle drop to the ground, stumbling backward until he was seated upon the edge of his hospital bed. Dazedly, he looked up at his sister in question.

"Did I . . ." He gulped. "How fast did I move?"

Elena ran her hands through her hair, looking worried and scared.

"Really fast," she whispered.

". . . That's what I thought," Jeremy whispered back. He looked down at his Uncle, watching somewhat gleefully as he massaged his throat. Uncle John had deserved that for what he'd done to Elena earlier that night. And even though Jeremy was petrified by his sudden burst of speed and strength, the strange feelings of pain and fire in his body, and the weird way he was hearing everything around him all at once, he was glad he'd had the ability to put his Uncle in his place. Even if just for a moment.

"You should lie down," Elena said. "And you, Uncle John, should leave."

Much to Jeremy's surprise, Uncle John was silent. He merely nodded tersely, got to his feet, and left the room. Elena watched him go, a smirk spreading across her face as the door slammed shut behind him.

"God, _finally_ ," Elena said, balling her hand into a fist and pulling it downward as if to say " _Yes!_ "

Jeremy sighed heavily, trying not be overwhelmed by the weird state his body was in. He rubbed his temples, prompting his sister to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was clear that even though she had no idea what was wrong with him, she knew _something_. Jeremy peered at her curiously.

"Elena, what _happened_?" he asked quietly.

"What do you mean?" Jeremy heard her heart rate increase. "I told you what happened."

"No, you didn't. You left something out, I know you did."

"I didn't."

"You did."

"Jeremy."

"Elena."

Elena sighed and sat down next to him. "Okay, fine. I wasn't gonna say anything because I wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but . . . When we found you in the woods, your neck was fucking wrecked. And when I say 'wrecked', I mean _wrecked_. There was blood, shit everywhere, just . . . Disgusting. It was bad."

"'We'? Who is 'we'?" Jeremy asked. He clenched his fists on his lap. He was listening to her words, but for some reason, having her sit so close to him, her pulse pounding . . . Well, it was a nightmare. He wanted to reach out and grab her but he didn't know why and it disgusted him.

What was wrong with him?

"Bonnie, Stefan, and I," Elena said, then she waved a dismissive hand. "I don't think you know Stefan. He's new this year."

Trying to focus on anything other than his sister's pounding heart, Jeremy said, "You were with Bonnie? Did you guys work it out?"

"Oh . . . Well, not really," Elena said, tucking her hair behind her ears. "But that's not important. Back to my story: you were totally fucked up, they did surgery on you, and when you came out, your neck was fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine. Like, as in nothing was wrong with it. The doctors acted like you never even had the wound to begin with. But I distinctly remember what it looked like. They said you had a 'scare on the table', but they never really explained what the scare was. And nobody seemed weirded out by the fact that you pretty much had surgery on nothing!"

"Did I have wounds anywhere else?" Jeremy asked, looking down the neck of his hospital gown and glancing down at his smooth, unscarred abs.

"Not that I know of," Elena said. "Seemed like it was just your throat."

Jeremy's mind raced as he tried to think of an answer to what Elena was saying. It wasn't like his wound, whatever it had looked like, had just magically disappeared. Perhaps Elena had imagined it? After all, it was a party. She had probably been high and drunk simultaneously. It wasn't too far-fetched a notion to think that she had been too faded to understand the state he was in.

But if that were the case, then why had he needed surgery, and why had he had a scare on the table? Something wasn't adding up.

"Who else did you say was here?" he asked, letting his nightgown fall back into place.

"Stefan," Elena replied. "Stefan Salvatore."

"Hm," Jeremy said, nodding. "Well, maybe we could ask him and Bonnie if they saw the wound, too?"

Elena nodded her agreement. "Sounds like a good idea . . . For me to do tomorrow at school."

"What? You're seriously going to make me stay overnight?" Jeremy complained.

"Yep," Elena said, getting up and pushing him back against his pillows. She pulled the blankets over him. "Now get some rest. I'm gonna go home."

"How?" Jeremy teased, finding that the light humor helped take his mind off of his screaming veins. "You gonna walk? You don't know how to drive!"

"I'll get an Uber, asshole." Elena patted him gently on the side of the face, gave him a warm smile, and then wished him good night. He watched her go and then settled back into his bed, alone with his thoughts and his pain.

 **ooo**

It was nearing 4 A.M. when Jeremy awoke with an intense, all-encompassing hunger. He had slept fitfully, a feverish shadow settled over a roiling sea. All the while, the shrieking in his body growing more intense by the moment. When he woke up with his jaws hurting worse than they had before, he staggered out of bed in a dumb stupor. Everything he could see had multiplied and was dancing around him dizzily. He grabbed onto the edge of the bed for support, wondering what in the Hell had happened to him and why he felt so sick. He felt nauseous but knew there wasn't anything in his stomach.

He needed food, and quick.

Jeremy stumbled out into the hallway, the lights dimmed and no nurses anywhere nearby. It was quiet, all of the doors to the rooms shut tightly and Jeremy seemed to be the only one who was awake. He swallowed, his throat feeling dry and scratchy, and he headed down the hall toward the elevator. There was a directory on the wall, showing him where the cafeteria was. Not caring that his hospital gown was showing his entire bare backside, he continued his way to the elevator. Right now, all he cared about was food and water.

As he got closer to the elevator, it dinged and the doors slid open. Jeremy froze on instinct, his eyes locking with a night nurse holding a clipboard. She smiled gently at him, apparently knowing who he was.

"Mr. Gilbert, what are you doing out of bed this early?" she tsked, bustling toward him with a purpose.

"I'm . . . Hungry," Jeremy said, his voice hoarse. His eyes rested upon her throat, where he felt like he could see her pulse moving. Every step of her feet was in tune with the beating of her heart, and something within Jeremy's mind had changed. If he had been dazed before, now he was catatonic. His brain was slowly sliding into a mode that was unknown to him and at this point, he was powerless to stop it.

The nurse put an arm around him and slowly guided him back down the hallway, chattering in a pleasant tone about something to do with his vitals. Jeremy's eyes never left her neck, the skin just above the collar of her scrubs looking unbelievably soft and supple. He felt his mouth salivating and though a very sane part of him felt repulsed by his feelings, another part of him was thinking something completely different.

"Let's get you back into bed," the nurse said as they re-entered his hospital room. "I'll have someone bring you up a nighttime snack, okay?"

As soon as the door shut behind them, Jeremy went into full auto-pilot mode. His body overpowering his brain, he grabbed the nurse's shoulders and pushed her up against the windowless door. She looked terrified, her mouth opening to scream, but Jeremy's eyes locked on hers with unbridled intensity.

"Please don't scream," he said desperately. "I don't know what's . . . What's wrong with me . . . I'm just so . . . Hungry . . ."

The nurse's mouth slowly closed and she nodded. "I won't scream," she whispered.

Surprised at her rapid following of his request, Jeremy turned his attentions back to her throat. As he watched the pulsating of her flesh, he felt something happening in his gums. He nearly toppled over as his canine teeth began to wiggle downward with painful force, something else replacing them in the bloody battle. His teeth fell out into his mouth and he spat them out, his crimson-tinged saliva mingling with the teeth on the linoleum floor of the hospital room. Horrified, he ran his tongue along whatever it was that had replaced them and pricked it on the tip of one.

"Fangs," he breathed out, seconds away from panicking. He let go of the nurse, telling her with a very pointed look in the eyes not to go anywhere, and then ran into the small bathroom. He stared at himself, at the blood on his chin from his own mouth, and then peered at his teeth.

Two very sharp, very formidable fangs were now jutting downward from his upper jaw. Jeremy stared at himself in muted horror, unable to formulate words. He'd read books about this sort of thing, had seen the movies, but this . . . It couldn't be true, couldn't be real. What was going on?

"Don't freak out."

Startled at the sudden voice, Jeremy jumped and spun around. In the doorway, a boy around his age was standing there in black skinny jeans and a hooded leather jacket. He had blonde-streaked brown hair that was styled upward and he wasn't much taller than Jeremy, who was over six feet tall himself. He had dark green eyes and a calm expression on his face, both of which did nothing to soothe Jeremy's nerves.

"Wh-Who are you?" Jeremy stammered, taking a step backward. He closed his mouth to hide the fangs and tried his damndest not to do the opposite of what the boy had said. He wanted desperately to freak out. He wanted to tear out his hair and slam his head against the wall until he woke up from whatever dream he was having.

The boy held up two disarming hands, his eyes never once leaving Jeremy's.

"Nothing is going to make sense to you about this, but . . . You're changing," the boy said carefully, not moving. "Your sister couldn't lose you, so I chose to save you. Now things are going to be very different for you."

Jeremy stood there, completely dumbfounded. He had no idea what this kid was talking about and he was still so hungry that all he could think about was the obvious.

"My teeth fell out," he said softly. "I have fangs."

"I know," the boy said. He still didn't move, and he kept his hands in the air. "I can help explain that. But right now, you have to make a decision."

"A decision?"

"Yes," the boy said. "You have to decide . . . If you want to live or die."

Jeremy's heart skipped a beat and he looked down, as if he were searching for answers on the bathroom floor. He had no idea what this guy was talking about, but for some reason . . . He didn't care. He felt like whatever this guy had to say, he had good reason for it and it would end very well for Jeremy if he listened to him. As he looked back up and forward, into this guy's eyes, Jeremy felt safe and calm.

"Okay," Jeremy whispered.

The boy nodded, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. "Now, are you prepared to do whatever it takes no matter what you decide? Because you might lose everything either way."

Jeremy didn't know why, but he trusted the boy. So he nodded.

"Okay. I . . . I want to live."

The boy heaved a sigh of relief. "Good. That's good, Jeremy."

Jeremy watched as one of his arms went out of view, beyond the door frame, and the boy pulled the nurse into the bathroom with them. Jeremy's veins began to surge with pain in response and his new fangs pulsed. The only difference this time . . . Was that he wasn't scared.

The boy pushed the nurse in front of him, pulling her hair to one side of her head and gently tilting her head to the side. Her throat became bared for Jeremy to see clearly, and Jeremy stared at it, not really sure what to do.

"You're hungry, aren't you?" the boy said, arching one eyebrow.

Jeremy frowned, feeling a bit put off by the situation. He pointed at the nurse.

"You want me to . . . ? What?"

"It'll be okay, Jeremy," the boy said. "Trust me."

With those words, Jeremy felt like every fiber in his body was telling him that he could, in fact, trust this kid, and he stepped forward. He watched with wide eyes as the boy opened his mouth and what Jeremy had _thought_ were a normal set of canine teeth in his head began to stretch downward into fangs that looked exactly like his own. The blood vessels in the boy's green eyes popped all at once, filling his eyes with red, and black veins spidered downward from the eye sockets. He dipped his head downward and sunk the fangs into the woman's neck. Jeremy saw his fingers digging into the woman's upper arms as the boy groaned and pulled his teeth out. There was vermilion blood all over his teeth and chin and he was gasping slightly, as though it were extremely hard for him to be standing there at that moment.

"Go ahead, Jeremy," the boy said, his voice sounding incredibly strained. He let go of the woman, whose eyes were closed in her daze, and started to fall forward.

His brain automatically showed him what to do.

Jeremy flashed forward with the same speed he had possessed earlier in front of his family, wrapping his arms around the nurse. Without much preamble, Jeremy latched his mouth onto the open wound, his fangs creating a second set of puncture holes. The blood filled his mouth as he suctioned it out and, like magic (no pun intended), all of the pain in Jeremy's body dissipated. He felt new strength and energy flowing through his veins, his muscles and organs all trembling with delight as he fed.

"Jeremy, st-stop," the boy said, his hand shaking as he tore Jeremy away from the woman. Jeremy watched as the boy gazed at her open wound for a long, drawn-out moment before he finally walked her over to the sink and began to clean her up.

Jeremy watched, wiping the blood away from his mouth. In his mind, he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he had just fed on the blood of a human being and not been bothered by the taste or the act in and of itself. He knew something was wrong with him and his body, but for some reason, it had felt more right than anything else in his life. That, and now he wasn't in excruciating pain. He could still hear everything including their beating hearts, but it didn't bother him so much anymore. To be frank, he felt phenomenal. Like he could leap across the Grand Canyon in one bound.

The kid looked the nurse in the eyes and said firmly, "Go find new scrubs to wear and forget any of this ever happened. You spilled some water on yourself and now you need to change. Get a bandage for your neck. If anyone asks what happened, tell them you accidentally scratched yourself with your fingernail."

The woman nodded and then promptly left the room.

"Jeremy, I know this is going to be really hard for you to do, but you have to go on acting as though nothing is wrong," the boy said, crossing his arms over his chest. He still had blood on his chin, but the agitated way in which his body was set showed Jeremy that he wasn't concerned with it being there so much as he was concerned with his desire to have more.

"Why?" Jeremy asked.

"Do you honestly think what we just did is normal?" the boy asked, eyebrows raised. "I have a lot to teach you, but it's too much for you to take in right now. For the sake of your sister and your family, you gotta act completely normal for now."

Jeremy nodded. Whatever this guy said, he was right.

"So just get back in bed," the boy said, jerking his head in the direction of the hospital bed. "I'll come around tomorrow and we can get started. Try _not_ to feed on anyone before then."

"You'll answer all my questions?"

The boy nodded. "Yep."

Jeremy sighed in resignation and walked past him to the bed, covering his bare backside with his hands as he went. He climbed back into bed, even though he felt like he wanted to sprint up and down the hallway 50 times, and pulled the blankets up to his chest. The boy cleaned up whatever blood spots were left in the bathroom and walked back out, hands tucked deep into his leather jacket's pockets.

"It's gonna be okay, Jeremy," the boy said, and something in the way he said Jeremy's name reminded the teenager that it was odd that someone he had never met before knew him on a first name basis.

He got his answer just as the boy was leaving the room.

"Wait!" Jeremy called. "What's your name?"

"Stefan," the boy said, hand on the doorknob. "Stefan Salvatore."

 **ooo**

Elena yawned sleepily, slowly pulling the proper books out of her locker. She had less than a minute to get to History class, but she was so exhausted that she didn't care if she was late. She had barely gotten an hour of sleep the night before what with everything that had happened, and after getting woken up with a slap to the side of the head from her Uncle, she didn't exactly care about school. She had been in such a rush that she had thrown on a pair of black sweat pants, a white spaghetti strap tank top that showed her lower abdomen, and her favorite leather jacket with the hood to wear that day, not caring how "unfashionable" she appeared. She was getting more than a few stares, but she figured it was more than likely because of the fight with Caroline and the drama of her brother getting carried away in an ambulance at the first party of the year, so she disregarded them.

Elena peered at her tired face in the mirror she had magneted to her locker door that morning, detesting the dark circles under her eyes and the horrid way her mascara was clumping together on her eyelashes. Elena nearly decided to skip the rest of the school day. She touched the side of her head where her Uncle had slapped her, grumbling to herself.

' _Why the eff didn't I put on more makeup today? I look like shit,'_ she thought miserably, arranging her long hair around her body so that it covered the bruise on the edge of her face. She sighed. After getting an hour of sleep and being beaten the day before, Elena's body felt awful. Grimacing as the constant ache pounded throughout her bruised body, she closed her locker and turned to go to class just as the bell rang.

"Those are some pretty nasty bruises there, on your back."

Elena shrieked in surprise as she nearly ran into the chest of Damon Salvatore, just barely holding on to her books and binder. As soon as she looked up into those icy blue eyes, she remembered how their little political debate had caused her to receive the bruises in the first place, and she was filled with distaste for the man.

"Oh, it's you," Elena sneered. People walking by were watching them, no doubt in awe of his looks and wondering how someone like Elena could be talking to someone like him. Girls especially seemed affected by it, huddling together and whispering like middle schoolers. Elena ignored them, however, finding that her dislike of the man clouded over everything else.

"Thanks for the warm welcome," he said, smiling for a moment before it disappeared. His eyes regarded her almost warily. "I take it your Uncle wasn't happy about our conversation yesterday?"

Elena looked him up and down. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans with a slim fit, black boots, and a simple dark blue V neck. He looked a lot less "professional" than he had yesterday, but Elena still sensed the "douche" that resided within him. She really didn't like this guy, and she wondered how someone as glaringly conceited as him could be related to someone as cool, calm, and collected as Stefan.

"I take it 'tact' isn't a word that you have in your vocabulary?" Elena shot back nastily, her upper lip curling a bit.

Damon smirked again. "Not particularly. I prefer the term 'feigned interest'."

Elena shook her head in disgust, clutching her books closer to her. "I don't know why you're at my school and I really don't care, but let me just say that I can see why my Uncle is so taken by you."

Before she could turn away from him, Damon chuckled and said, "And I can see why my brother is so taken by _you_."

Elena froze and glared up at him. She had no idea what he meant by that, but it freaked her out. She didn't know which was weirder - that Stefan was his brother, or that Stefan had mentioned her to him.

"Leave her alone, Damon." From behind Damon, a ways down the hall, Bonnie came waltzing up. She was wearing a simple floral skater dress with short sleeves and her hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail at the top of her head. She came to stand beside Elena, arms folded over her chest and a stern expression on her face.

Damon tilted his head to the side. "I don't think I know you, but I can tell you mean business. Should I run or just piss myself right here?"

"Shut up," Bonnie said. "You may not know me, but I've known you for longer than you know and I've always hated you. So go off and do whatever evil things you do, and leave Elena the Hell alone!"

Damon raised his eyebrows but he didn't respond. All he did was perform a flourished bow and then he turned around and walked off down the hall. Elena watched him go, shaking her head and sighing.

"I don't know what the heck is going on, but I hate him, too," she said. She looked at Bonnie. She wasn't sure if she trusted her yet, but she sure had come around a lot since yesterday. But one day wasn't enough to undo a Summer full of grief, so Elena put her walls up.

"You don't want to know what's going on," Bonnie said, frowning. "And even if I wanted to explain it to you, you wouldn't understand."

Elena didn't have the energy to decode her cryptic words, so she just nodded and turned to go. Bonnie grabbed her hand though, stopping her.

"Hey, wait," she said, her eyes searching Elena's. "How is Jeremy doing?"

"He's okay," Elena said cautiously, taking her hand back swiftly. "Thanks again for last night."

"No problem," Bonnie said, "but I mean, is he _okay_?"

Elena stared at her for a moment, wondering why Bonnie was looking at her so intently, and then it clicked.

Did Bonnie know something?

Elena looked around to make sure nobody was listening in, and then she pulled Bonnie closer to her locker. Bonnie waited for her to speak.

"Bonnie, I don't know if I'm delusional or what, but when we found Jeremy in the woods, he had this . . . This like, awful cut on his throat. Like someone tore his throat out. And then later, after his surgery, it was gone," she whispered fearfully, her eyes wide.

Bonnie averted her eyes for a moment. "Gone?"

Elena nodded, not noticing the discomfort in Bonnie's stance. "Gone."

Bonnie closed her eyes and then opened them, looking beside herself, and then she just shook her head.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, I . . ."

Elena tried to stop her. "What? No, Bonnie, wait! If you know something . . ."

Bonnie shook her head again and, without another word, turned and walked briskly away from her. Angrily, Elena scowled and went to class. She wanted to know what was going on. It felt like everyone was sharing some big, giant secret about her - a bunch of people who didn't really know who she was, all planning something big with _her_ life. It was unfair.

Elena felt like everyone in her life wanted to control her, and she was sick of it. From her Uncle John slapping her awake, threatening to beat her again if she didn't behave better that day, to Bonnie holding some truth over her head, Elena felt like everything was already out of control. She paused in the middle of the next hallway, steps away from the History class that she was already late for, and debated leaving for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, the bruises on Elena's body reminded her that it could turn out poorly for her if she skipped, so she hurried into class. She immediately met the eyes of Stefan, who was standing at Mr. Saltzman's desk and handing him a book.

". . . Found this in my family's library," Stefan was saying. "I thought you'd find it interesting, Mr. Saltzman."

Elena looked up at both of them as she halted by the door. The classroom was full this time and the exchange between Mr. Saltzman and Stefan was not tense, though Elena had no idea whether those two things were related. Mr. Saltzman saw her and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I heard about your brother on the news, Elena," he said. "I hope he's okay?"

"He's fine," Elena said flatly, mostly because she was tired. She looked at Stefan but he looked away, as if he wanted to hide the fact that he had been present during the whole incident.

Mr. Saltzman nodded. "Animal attack, right?"

As if on cue, Elena and Stefan both looked up at Mr. Saltzman sharply. Something about the tone of voice he'd used to say his words had caused Elena to feel her hackles rise. She tried not to show her suspicions on her face and instead, responded.

"Yes," she said. "No one knows what kind, though. He doesn't remember anything."

Then, as if it couldn't get any weirder, Mr. Saltzman said, "I bet he doesn't."

Elena and Mr. Saltzman looked at each other for a long while, Elena's brow furrowed with concern. She was sure he was a nice guy, but he just seemed so . . . Odd. He almost sounded like _he_ was hiding something, too.

Things were getting weirder by the second.

"Well, I hope you like the book," Stefan interjected into the awkward silence. He turned, placing his hand on Elena's lower back and turning her towards the desks as well. The fact that he was touching her like that was enough to shatter the moment and she felt her cheeks staining red. She quickened her pace until she was out of his range and sat down at her desk. He looked at her as he sat down, a blank expression on his face, but she was so embarrassed that she looked away. She didn't even know why she was so embarrassed, either. She looked out the window, her heart pounding until she felt his eyes leave her and he turned to face the front.

After class, Elena gathered up her things as quickly as possible and left before anyone could say anything to her, hurrying toward the front doors of the school. She'd had enough. There was too much going on in her mind and she wanted - no, _needed_ \- a break. She was going home and if her Uncle came at her again, she was going to fight back until he stopped. She knew it was a bad idea to leave school, but all this drama with Bonnie, Damon, Stefan, her brother . . . It was too much. And it didn't help that people kept whispering her name and Caroline's in the same sentence, reminding her of their little catfight that was no doubt going to happen again at some point.

Elena texted Vickie, hoping her friend could offer her some help.

 **Hey can you meet me in the bathroom?** she sent. **I need some "assistance."**

Vickie replied instantly, and the two of them agreed to meet in the girl's bathroom near the front of the main building. Elena headed there as fast as possible, knowing that as soon as she got Vickie's "help," she wasn't going to be able to feel anything for a while.

Vickie was waiting for her outside the bathroom as soon as she walked up. The sight of her smiling face calmed Elena instantly and the two girls' faces split into wide smiles. They hugged each other tightly.

"Is Jer okay?" Vickie asked as the two of them went into the bathroom.

"I think so. Just shaken up. But he'll be all right." Elena checked under all of the stalls and then turned to face her friend, holding out her hand.

"All I have right now is Vicodin," Vickie said, handing Elena two pills from the depths of her purse. "You don't have to pay me or anything, either. I took it from some chick's purse at the party last night."

"Thanks, bitch," Elena giggled, immediately popping the two pills into her mouth. She knew it'd be a little bit before it kicked in, so she wasn't in any hurry to leave. She turned to the mirror and checked the bruises on the side of her head again.

"Uncle John's getting feisty, huh?" Vickie said, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't you worry he might try something with you?"

Elena shook her head. "It isn't like that, Vick. He's just an asshole."

"Yeah, but don't you remember when we were kids and Matt used to bully you on the playground?" Vickie faced the mirror and began playing with her hair, which was carefully curled. "You guys ended up dating."

"Okay, but Vickie?" Elena laughed incredulously. "Think about what you're saying. Like, _ew_."

"Well, _yeah_ it's ew, but still." Vickie's smile faltered. "You should be careful."

"I know," Elena answered. She gave her friend another hug. "I'm gonna bounce. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Vickie said, hugging her bag. "I'll text you or DM you on Instagram tonight, though."

They said their goodbyes and then Elena headed home.

When she walked in the empty house, Elena heaved a sigh of relief. The pills were just starting to kick in, so her anxiety was beginning to melt away by the second. She was glad to be alone in the house and the first thing she wanted to do was go upstairs and take a long, hot shower. She just wanted to wash away the conflicting emotions she was experiencing after the day before, and when they were all clear of her mind, she was going to go back to being herself: Tough, no-nonsense Elena.

When Elena got upstairs, the moment she let her backpack hit the floor, she realized that something was wrong. Even though it was deathly quiet in the house, she couldn't shake the oppressive feeling that she was not, in fact, alone. She glanced over her shoulder at the empty hallway behind her, but saw nothing but the dancing of sunlight through the window panes. Shaking off her obviously baseless fears, she made her way to the bathroom for her shower.

Ensuring the both doors to the bathroom were shut, blocking her from her room and Jeremy's, Elena stood at the mirror and began to wipe her makeup off with a wipe.

"Elena."

She heard the whispers, feeling them crawling over her skin like tiny bugs. She shivered and whirled around, as though something would be there that she wouldn't have seen in the mirror, but she was still alone. She frowned. Perhaps the Vicodin was getting to her? Which would be weird, since she'd never hallucinated on pain pills before . . .

"Elena."

There it was again. Elena ran to her side of the bathroom, pulling open the door. She peered out into the room. There was nothing there. Then, she turned and went to Jeremy's side. Again, nothing.

"What the Hell . . . ?" Elena murmured to herself, scratching the top of her head. The second whisper had been so loud that there was no possible way she could have been imagining it. What was going on?

"El . . . Ena . . ." The whisper was broken up this time, throaty and choking on its own air. Elena heard it right behind her, causing goosebumps to prickle up along every inch of her body. Her heart began to beat wildly with fear and she froze. She dared not turn around.

As soon as the thing behind her grabbed her hair and yanked her head to the side, exposing her throat, she regretted it.

 **ooo**

 _ **"**_ _Sometimes, we have to do what's best for ourselves, not the majority. Hang whoever made the rules - Rules were meant to be broken."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry that took so long. I struggled with how to end this chapter. Also, I'm not really sure anyone is even interested in this story. Sigh. I wish you guys would give me a chance.**

 **Nevertheless, I won't give up. I love my story and I'm going to keep writing it until it is done, whether anyone likes it or not.**

 **The chapter is titled "Orbital" because astronomers have discovered two white dwarves that are currently whirling around and around each other, giving off gravitational waves full of orbital energy. In 37 million years (give or take), these stars will collide and merge, effectively creating a new star from two. A.k.a . . . Rebirth.**

 **Note: I know I said all songs would be from TVD or TO soundtracks, but I no longer will be sticking to that. I will also pick songs that I feel fit the theme or narrative. Thanks.**


	8. Author's Note

**May 18, 2016: Hey guys, don't worry! I haven't forgotten about my stories. I just don't have a computer. Plus, I started my own business making phone cases, so I have been extremely busy because my sales volume has increased to about 20 sales per week, and that's a lot of work T.T but you can see my decoden cases at www . creepycutecases . com**

 **I'm starting school finally in the Summer (at the age of 24 omfg), and then I'll be back to writing! I'll even be updating all of my fics at once!**


	9. Wrath

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **White Lies**_ " **\- I See Stars**

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Wrath**

 **ooo**

"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen."

\- Ralph Waldo Emerson

 **ooo**

Elena opened her eyes to pitch darkness. Confused, she sat up and realized that she was sprawled out on the floor of her bedroom. Her Uncle was pounding at her door and when she looked over at it, she realized there was a chair shoved up under the knob. Her bemusement growing, she tried to remember what had happened.

Nothing. No memories, no knowledge of how she had gotten where she was or why.

Stumbling over to the bedroom door, she reached for the chair. Then, she hesitated.

"Elena!" Uncle John roared, his fist loudly hitting the wooden door so hard that it was shaking. "Elena, open this damn door right now!"

Elena bit her lower lip and pushed her long hair behind her ears. She had a sickening feeling that if she opened that door, she'd regret it. But if she waited too long, the result might be worse. Indecisive, she continued to linger as she wrung her hands anxiously in front of her stomach.

Suddenly, she pounding stopped. Elena took a shaky breath as silence ensued. She wondered if her Uncle had given up, though it was highly unlikely, and she exhaled heavily. She walked backward until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, and then she sat down.

What had happened? All she could remember was coming home from school early because she'd taken some pills that Vicky gave her. After that, she was drawing a complete blank. Her bruises from Uncle John's beating were still aching and there was a slight pain in her neck, but other than that, nothing telling. She glanced toward the window, gazing out at the moonlit night sky, racking her brain.

The bathroom door blew open, startling Elena into screaming. Her head snapped to look and she was horrified to see Uncle John stomping over to her in the darkness. She immediately threw her hands up to protect herself, but Uncle John merely grabbed onto her wrists and dragged her to her feet. He leaned down close to her, and she could see the whites of his eyes.

"You left school early, Elena?!" he snarled. "After everything that's happened this week?"

Elena felt her fear giving way to rage and she struggled in his vice-like grip. "Let _go_ of me!" she cried angrily, ignoring his words.

"Explain yourself!" he shouted, shaking her so violently that her head whipped back and forth.

Elena went ballistic, pushing against him with her arms while simultaneously trying to yank herself backward. She twisted back and forth, screaming unintelligible curse words. Caught by surprise at her wild attempts at escape, his fingers loosened and she was able to hop-skip off to the side and away from him. She pushed her fingers through her hair, mussing it up in irritation.

"Fuck you, I don't have to explain anything to you," Elena spat defiantly, her dark almond eyes flashing. She wondered where Aunt Jenna was, why she hadn't come up to see what was going on, but then again, she knew it was likely that Jenna was at the hospital with Jeremy. In spite of this, Elena was dead-set on not doing what her Uncle said, even if they were alone in the house and she had no possible protection.

"Don't you talk to me like that, Elena Gilbert," Uncle John hissed. "Why can't you just do what you're told? Why do you constantly have to defy me over and over again? When are you going to learn?!"

"I learned _all_ that I need to know when my dad drove off the bridge, Uncle John," Elena snapped back, pointing her finger angrily at him as if to drive her point home.

He glared at her, a fire burning in his eyes that Elena had never seen. It was like his entire being was engulfed in hatred for her and her alone. Elena herself was feeling the anger as well, and she stood there, crossing her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders. She wasn't going to give him any sort of satisfaction, not after everything he'd done to her.

The first blow came in the form of a punch square to the face. Elena was blinded with pain as she stumbled backward, clutching her now-bleeding nose and gasping in shock. She was just wrapping her minds around the fact that he had sucker-punched her when he hit her again, this time in a rounded punch to the left side of her face. She spun slightly, falling to the floor, and received a knee to the forehead.

"I've just about had it with you, you little bitch!" Uncle John practically screamed, grabbing her hair in a large clump and pulling her across the carpet. He spoke over the sound of her pained cries, "I'm so sick and tired of playing these games with you, and I'm done trying."

Elena had no idea what was going on, all she knew was that he was sitting down on the edge of her bed, he wasn't letting go of her hair, and she was hearing his belt buckle. She started to panic, clawing at his fist with her nails, panting in terror. Her mind had gone blank and white, nothing but pure terror blaring like an alarm bell in her head.

"Stop fighting!" John roared. "There's only one way to deal with little girls who don't do as they're told, and if you're not going to listen to the words that I say, then maybe you'll respond better to action."

"Un-Uncle John, no," Elena begged, her voice scratchy and hoarse from the exertion of her struggle. She was still trying to pry his grip off of her hair, even as his other hand went to his zipper.

Elena's feet scrabbled against the carpet as she fought, pushing against his hand at the back of her head, trying as hard as she could to keep struggling. She could feel her body growing tired from it, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She heard his zipper going down and she began to fight harder.

"Stop! _Stop it_!" Elena snarled, pressing the bottoms of her feet against the boxspring and pushing with all of her strength. Uncle John started to lean forward, using his other hand to grab her by the throat and try to pull her forward. Elena opened her eyes briefly and nearly vomited because she could see it even though it was dark, and _she just wanted to get away from him._

Uncle John toppled forward on top of her, and Elena felt all of the air rush out of her. Stunned for a moment, she could only lay there as he straddled her abdomen upright on his knees. He kept one hand on her throat, pinning her down, and used his other hand to reach into his pants.

Elena knew it was now or never, so she surprised him by leaning up suddenly and slamming her forehead directly into his groin. He cried out and fell backward, and quick as a flash, she was on her feet. Her hair flew out behind her as she fled from the room and through the bathroom, slamming it shut and locking the door behind her. She heard him weakly yelling her name, but she ignored it. Her heart was pounding louder than it ever had before, but she didn't stop to think about what had happened. She just needed to get out of the house, and fast.

As Elena was shutting the door to Jeremy's room, the bathroom door was opening, revealing a thoroughly livid Uncle John. Elena tried not to let her fear show as she slammed the second door in his face and made a mad dash for the hallway.

"Elena!" Uncle John exclaimed, and then she felt his hands on her shoulders, pushing her to the side just before she could exit the room.

He slammed her facefirst against the wall twice, pressing himself against her backside. She could feel the warmth of him through her sweatpants, his hands hot on her hips as he started to tug at the waistband. She reached behind her back and tried desperately to grab at his hands, battling to keep them away. Her hair was in her face, making it even harder to see in her brother's dark bedroom, and she was close to hyperventilation.

This was nothing short of a pure and total _nightmare_.

"Unlce John, pl-please," she managed to pant as he finally got her pants down around her thighs and off of her feet.

"Shut up," he growled, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he pressed his entire body against hers. Her skin crawled as the heat of him pulsated through her panties. She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe he was this desperate to exert his power over her. After all, that's what this was about, wasn't it?

Elena mustered up the last bits of energy she had and sharply jerked her head backward. She felt a bit of pain as her skull connected with his chin, giving her the opportunity she needed. Not caring about the fact that she was in only her underwear and her tank top, she took off at full speed for the stairs, taking them two at time all the way down. She could hear Uncle John right behind her, felt him reaching for her, and she was having a hard time keeping the screams down. She got her hand around the doorknob to the front door, but it was a moment too late.

Uncle John threw his arms around her and lifted her up into the air with her upper arms locked against her sides. She wriggled about and cried out in rage, kicking her legs as he twisted around so that they were facing the hallway to the kitchen.

" _Let me go, you piece of shit_!" Elena screamed at the top of her lungs, fighting so hard that it was a wonder she could keep it up for as long as she had.

" _No_!" Uncle John roared in response, fighting back with just as much vigor in his attempt to get her into the living room. " _I'm not going to put up with this for another second!"_

Elena accidentally-on-purpose hit his chin again with her head. It must have been tender because he actually let her go. She didn't waste any time running into the dark kitchen and sliding a knife out of the drawer by the stove. She turned her back to the counter and gripped the handle with two shaking hands, pointing it outward in front of her and waiting.

Uncle John came skidding to a halt on the linoleum, breathing heavily. He stood there with his hands up defensively.

"Just put the knife down, Elena," he said in a low, calm tone.

"No," she shot back, sidestepping toward the back door.

"Now, just calm down!" he barked, the suddenness of it causing Elena to jump and nearly drop her weapon. "I'm not going to hurt you. I was just trying to teach you a lesson."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Elena shrieked, her arms trembling. "You're trying to . . . To . . ." She couldn't even say it. She was barely able to keep her wits about her.

"No, I'm not," he said, offering her a smile that just sickened her. "I wasn't actually going to do anything, I just wanted you to stop back-talking me."

Elena was moving toward the backdoor as he spoke, still pointing the knife in his direction. "Leave me alone!" she cried.

He lunged forward, one of his hands coming up from below to knock the blade out of her hand. She screamed in fear when he grabbed her outstretched wrists and pulled her around in a semi-circle. She slammed her stomach against the edge of the counter, the pain threatening to overwhelm her as he pushed her forward until she was bent over it. She immediately reached her hands backward against, trying to maintain some semblance of space between his hips and her backside, even though the pain of the counter digging into her abdomen was gut-wrenching.

"Stop, stop, _stop_!" Elena wailed, finally unable to keep tears from springing to her eyes. He was keeping her pressed down onto the island with his hand while his other hand gripped her hip. She could feel his hardness against her now, and her mind was reeling. Why was this _happening_?

"I'm tired of all of this fighting, Elena," Uncle John said quietly as he leaned down over her. As he spoke, his hand was fiddling with his pants. "I know the reason why you disrespect me."

Elena froze. What was he talking about?

"Wh-What?" she stammered, having to press her hands against the counter edge to try to gain some relief from the pain in her stomach. Her brow was furrowed so hard that her head was hurting, too.

Uncle John pressed both palms of his hands against her rump, squeezing, and her eyes widened in a disturbed panic. She gasped as a jolt of electricity shot through her body and every nerve inside of her told her she had to get out of there _now_. She couldn't wait - she _needed_ to escape. This had gone way beyond "too far."

"It's what you like, isn't it?" Uncle John whispered raggedly to her, grinding his hips against hers from behind. "Back-talking me and breaking all of my rules because you want me to control you like this?"

Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing. She wanted to cut her own ear off if only to save herself from hearing his voice saying those things. She tried to push against him, but he only held her tighter.

"No," Elena said, shaking her head rapidly. "No, you're wrong."

"I'm right," he chuckled darkly, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to move her hair aside. He pressed her lips against the back of her neck and she gagged in revulsion. Uncle John reached into her panties, his wormlike fingers digging into one side of her bottom. He moaned against her skin and she couldn't stop herself - she leaned over the counter again in spite of the pain and retched, spewing bile from within her. She wanted to cry, but she knew there was no time.

"Come on, Elena," he groaned. "There's no point in pretending. I see the way you look at me - ever since you were little."

"You're disgusting," Elena said, only able to whisper at this point. Her eyes were completely blurry with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. There simply wasn't time.

As her Uncle's hands started to move underneath her underwear, moving downward and towards the center, Elena's eyes frantically searched for something that could help her in her Aunt Jenna's impeccably-clean kitchen.

The fruit bowl.

Elena went to make a grab for it but realized that in order to grab it, she'd have to completely place her stomach flat on the tabletop to be able to stretch her arm out far enough. During their struggle, it had somehow gotten jostled and had moved close to the further corner. Even though she knew what would happen if she did, she knew that there was no way she could wait a second longer. She was exhausted from fighting so hard and even though this entire situation seemed like a disgusting dream, she knew that if she did nothing, then she'd regret it.

So she leaned forward, the sudden movement causing his fingers to reach their destination much quicker than originally intended. She shuddered in disgust as he touched her roughly, but luckily she was able to grab the rim of the fruit bowl without him noticing. She heard him groaning more, felt his hands rubbing against her core, and she had to stop herself from completely freaking out.

Without another second to spare, Elena slammed the full bowl against the side of his balding head. His eyes rolled upward and he crumpled, looking repulsive as he laid there, limbs sprawled about, pants down below his pelvis and manhood exposed. Elena dropped the fruit bowl and staggered away from him, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Her entire body was shaking with pain and she felt like her sacred area was burning in the worst way.

He shifted suddenly, and Elena knew she couldn't wait. She had to go.

Without another second, she ran past him and out the back door, her bare feet hitting the grass as she ran around the side of the house and out into the street in front of their house. She ran and ran and ran, not caring which direction she was going. The wind brushing past her face kept the tears in her eyes from falling, but it did nothing to help keep the panic levels in her body from shooting through the roof. Her heart was beating fast, faster than it ever had before, and next thing she knew, she was at the gate to the cemetery.

Elena bent at the waist, one hand gingerly touching the tender part of her stomach as she caught her breath. The ends of her hair tickled her lower back and elbows, causing her skin to prickle with goosebumps at the soft feeling. She was trying desperately to keep herself together. It felt like ever part of her was being shoved into a box that was too small and everything kept spilling out at the corners and edges.

"Elena?!" someone cried from behind her. "What are you doing out here like that?!"

She whirled around, terror clawing its way up into her eyes. She lashed out blindly, worried that it might be Uncle John trying to trick her. She closed her eyes and kept slamming her fists outward, feeling them connect with a rock-hard chest.

"Stop!" the person said, grabbing her wrists so tightly that she couldn't move. "Elena, what's wrong with you?"

"Stefan?" Elena whispered, her big, brown eyes gazing up into his. She didn't know why he was there, whether he had followed her or not, or if he had bad intentions. All she knew was that she felt incredibly safe and utterly, wholly _exhausted._

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice so full of concern for her that she felt like she was unraveling. "Do you need me to take you home?"

' _Home_?' she thought fearfully. ' _To him? To . . . That?'_

"I . . . I . . . I . . ." She couldn't get her words out. She was having a panic attack, her breath coming in loud, short, spurts as her tears overwhelmed her. She broke down into bone-wracking sobs, tears spilling down her cheeks and her mouth gaping open as she struggled for air. She wept unashamedly, allowing her friend to engulf her in his warm embrace. She felt his hand on the back of her head, which was smarting from the pain of her hair being pulled so much. He pressed her face into his chest, and she fisted her hands in his shirt, crying so hard that it hurt. He tucked her head under his chin, saying nothing.

Elena could still feel her Uncle's hands all over her, and it was making her ill.

"Whoa!" Stefan gasped when Elena collapsed, nearly crashing to the floor. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her upright as her head lolled backward in a faint. As he slipped one arm beneath her knees and picked her up, she felt herself losing consciousness.

God, did she welcome it.

 **ooo**

" _There's no going back after this, sister. Once we do this, everything's going to be different. You know that, right?"_

" _. . . I know. I'm ready."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the late update! I didn't have a computer and then I finally got one, but haven't had the inspiration. I really struggled with whether or not it was too soon to put the sexual assault scene in here but then I realized it's reality. Since when does assault ever happen at the "right" moment? Victims don't get warnings. But don't worry. If Stefan ever finds out, I think we all know what will happen. Anyway, I had to blast the can of worms open. And be forewarned, this story is going to be true to its M rating from now on.**

 **Also, I know the chapter is on the short side but the content was very heavy subject matter, so it didn't seem right to make it much longer.**


	10. Simmer

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Fire Rides**_ " **\- MO**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 - Simmer**

 **ooo**

"The first beginnings of things cannot be distinguished by the eye."

\- Lucretius

 **ooo**

Klaus glanced at his phone in slight annoyance. Damon was calling him and he didn't know why. Usually when Damon called him after being compelled to do something, it was because something had gone wrong in the plan. Either that, or he wanted to complain. More often than not, it was the latter.

"Yes?" he answered, halting his brisk-paced walk through the French Quarter.

"You didn't tell me that's what this was about, Klaus," Damon's voice bit out of the receiver.

Klaus smirked to himself. "That's the beauty of compulsion, Damon. You don't always remember every part of it."

"Why did you compel me to . . . Do that?" Damon snapped back, sounding thoroughly perturbed. "I don't remember you saying anything like that. You just said to mess with her."

"How about you don't question me? Perhaps doing what you're told is the best thing for you to do right now, and everything will make sense in the end," Klaus answered.

"Klaus, I'm all for a little fun a-la- _Clockwork Orange_ , but _Irrevérsible_?" Damon sighed. "A little morbid, don't you think?"

"You fail to see the bigger picture, Damon," Klaus chuckled darkly. "Besides, I left the compulsion pretty open and lenient. Don't tell me you did the honors yourself?"

"I compelled Uncle Creepypants," Damon snorted. "Not like it was difficult. He was in-between vervain doses and there was already something there."

Klaus paused, his smirk growing. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I just said - the feelings were already there," the older Salvatore replied. "All I had to do was compel him to act upon them. Not that he managed to finish the job."

Klaus could already feel the wheels turning in his mind. This knowledge changed everything. The plan had already been coming together quite nicely on his end, and this new information was exactly the fuel he needed for the fire.

"Keep doing what you're doing," Klaus said into the phone quickly, turning and walking in the direction of the Mikaelson mansion. "Oh, and Damon?"

"What?"

"Don't call again until the job is completed. Please do take your time - it must be taken, not given." He hung up, sliding his phone into his back pocket.

Feeling giddy, Klaus smiled to himself. From the moment he realized something was amiss in the course of his life, the hybrid had garnered every intention of claiming what was rightfully his. He knew what had gone wrong the last time, and now he knew exactly how to fix it.

Klaus grabbed the nearest witch, looking directly into her fear-filled eyes.

"Send word to Elijah," he compelled. "Tell him there's another way."

The witch nodded blankly, turned on her heel, and walked off. Klaus watched her go before he heaved a sigh of relief. He looked upward, mindless of the large amounts of people jostling him in the crowded streets, and tried not to think of what could have been. It would not do to dwell on past lives and dreams.

Whether this life or the next, this dimension or another, Klaus was King.

 **ooo**

Tyler Lockwood looked up as his father entered his bedroom, setting down the football magazine he'd been rifling through. He was sprawled out on his bed, still wearing his practice clothes. He was feeling mildly pissed off about a tiny argument he'd had with his friend Caroline today, but since there was nothing he could do about it until the following day, he'd resolved to read as a distraction.

"What are you doing, holed up in your room?" his father asked, his eyes flitting down the the magazine.

Tyler sat up, swinging his legs around until they touched the floor. "Oh, nothing, Dad. Just reading. What's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know your Uncle Mason is coming into town this week," he said, leaning up against the door frame. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and his tie loosened. "Have you given any thought to what we talked about?"

Tyler rolled up the magazine and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. Of course he had thought about it. All he'd _done_ was think about it. He just didn't know if it was what he really wanted.

"I'm still trying to decide," he mumbled.

His father scoffed, "What is there to decide? I thought you loved football."

"I do. I mean, it's just . . ." Tyler trailed and and looked up at his dad. "Is that really what I want to go to college for? I kinda . . . Well, I kinda wanted to try my hand at political science. I mean, you're the Mayor, dad, and you played football in high school."

His father's eyebrows shot up in poorly-masked amusement. "You, the next Mayor? No offense, son, but leadership and power liek this is just not something you would excel at. You're more brawns than brain, so you should stick to what you know."

Tyler lowered his gaze, pretending his father's words hadn't felt like claws to his heart. He could feel his bad mood roiling within him, driving him dangerously close to full-blown anger. He didn't understand why his dad was so harsh with him, oftentimes even cruel. Why did he want him to play football so badly?

"Now, come on, son," Mayor Lockwood said, holding out his hand and waving his hand toward himself. "Your mother wants to go to The Grill for dinner."

Tyler felt a sudden flare of rage within him and he stood up, hurling the magazine across his bedroom. It crashed into his trophy case, smashing through the glass and sending golden trophies cascading down to the hardwood floor. Horrified, Tyler stared down at his hand as though it had just turned green.

' _How did . . . What_?'

The blow to the side of his head caught him by surprise, and he whirled around to glower up at his father. He gingerly touched the side of his head, his eyes traveling to his father's half-raised fist. This wasn't the first time his father had hit him, but the last time had been months ago. Why the sudden change?

"Control yourself," his father hissed. "Now is not the time to be acting insane."

Tyler's brow furrowed. "Wh-What?"

"Nevermind. Just get your shoes on so we can go." His father abruptly left, leaving Tyler feeling completely and utterly perplexed.

Tyler walked over to his destroyed trophy case and knelt down in front of it, reaching down to pick up a now-broken trophy. A little bummed out, he sighed and tossed it aside. Maybe he just didn't know how own strength at times? He ran a finger through his cropped brown hair and stood up, glancing at himself in the mirror in his room. He stared at his reflection blankly.

He felt like a shadow. Empty. He worried that his father was right - that he was unintelligent and doomed to forever be a washed-up jock with nothing going for him but college football. Tyler knew within himself that he wasn't good enough to go pro. No, his future in football was bound to cap out at some point.

He supposed he'd come back to Mystic Falls, get a dead-end job at a factory nearby, and never achieve anywhere near the success his father had as Mayor. Sure, he'd most likely inherit the house, maybe marry someone he'd known all of his life, have a couple kids. As Tyler stared at himself and zoned out, everything around him began to blur. He abhorred the thought of a life so droll and predictable. He hadn't given it a lot of thought, but he knew his future couldn't possibly be so straightforward, could it?

Tyler wanted something to change, and fast.

"Tyler, _now_!" his father's voice drifted angrily down the hall, snapping the teen out of his reverie.

Unfortunately, he didn't think he was destined for anything other than what was expected of him.

 **ooo**

"Thanks for the dinner, Mom," Caroline Forbes whispered snidely to herself as she smeared peanut butter onto a sandwich. "No, don't get up! Let me take care of everything while you mope around being miserable that daddy left."

Caroline took a vicious bite out of her sandwich as she made her way back to her bedroom. She'd literally had the worst day known to mankind. After fighting with her best friend Tyler over what total trash she thought his girlfriend Vickie was, she'd come home to her mother leaving. They'd exchanged a couple argumentative phrases about how her mother was never home, and then Caroline had slammed the front door behind her mother's back. The cherry on top of the sundae had been when Caroline went to the bathroom and saw that she still had bruises on her face from her cat fight with Elena Gilbert.

The blonde seventeen-year-old plopped down on the couch and stared at the TV's black screen while she chewed her sandwich slowly. She hated that this was her life. She hated that her dad left for another man. She hated that her mother hated her, and she hated that this Summer had been a nightmare. It seemed like Elena's parents dying had been the catalyst to a snowball effect. What had once been a tight-knit group of friends had unraveled as quickly as it could, making Caroline question if they had ever really been close.

Caroline finished her sandwich, swallowing it with difficulty. It tasted like ash.

' _God, you eat a PB &J every night for a week and you'd think it would taste like Heaven,_' Caroline thought sarcastically as she got up to get some water.

A knock sounded out at the door, however, and Caroline was forced to leave the kitchen and go into the hallway. She could see through the window on the door that it was the last person she expected to see. Fire burned within her as her steps turned to stomping, and she wrenched the door open. For a split second, she had a very strong thought that this was completely wrong and that everything was out of order. That made no sense whatsoever, so she dismissed the thought, focused on her rage, and addressed the person at the door.

"What the Hell are _you_ doing here?" Caroline practically snarled. "I'm not really in the mood to fight with you again."

Silence.

Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and scowled, shaking her head in disgust. "Figures. You know, you're so predictable-"

"I just wanna talk, Caroline. Can I come in and make things right?"

 **ooo**

Bonnie tried her best not to scream. Her fingers trembled violently as she hurriedly attempted to extinguish the candle in front of her before her grandmother came to her room to notify her that dinner was ready. She counted backward from ten in her head while she struggled to calm herself down.

' _Did I . . . Did I really just do that_?"

Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she fanned her neck with her hands to try and calm herself down. She'd noticed that things felt weird for the past couple of weeks, but hadn't known what to make of it until she'd been randomly perusing her grandmother's bookshelves and one book seemed to jump out at her from all the rest. She'd taken it down off the shelf and seen that it had to be older than any book she'd ever seen. The cover and spine were so leathery and worn that the title could no longer be deciphered. And then when she'd opened and and seen nothing but Latin and pictures that looked straight out of a Satanic Bible, Bonnie had known she had something important in her hands.

After some Google Translate action, Bonnie discovered that what she had was in fact a type of spellbook. Assuming it was Wiccan, she'd had a bit of fun trying out the spells written within it, even though she wasn't quite sure what they all meant. She'd been doing it for days now and nothing had happened.

Until now.

Hearing footsteps in the hall, Bonnie quickly stashed the extinguished candle under her pillow.

"Coming, Grams!" she said just as her grandmother knocked on the door.

Bonnie whipped it open, smiling innocently up at her. Her grandmother looked surprised, but smiled nonetheless.

"You ready to eat, Bonnie?" she asked in a thin voice that was reedy with age.

"Yeah," Bonnie replied. "What'd you make tonight?"

"Jambalaya," her grandma replied as the two of them walked to the dining room. Bonnie could smell the food, and it never failed to make her smile.

After gathering some plates and cups, loading up their dishware, and sitting down at the table, Bonnie wasted no time.

"Grams, I was looking at your bookshelves earlier and I saw that you have a lot of Wiccan literature," Bonnie said between bites of spicy sausage, rice, and vegetables. "Are you Wiccan, or do you just have an interest in it as a subject?"

Her Grams blew the hot air away from a spoonful of her food, seeming to regard her granddaughter warily. "Why do you ask?"

"Well," Bonnie shrugged, trying not to look guilty of stealing the book and somehow lighting a candle with just her mind. She was still trying to decided whether or not she had been dreaming. She paused mid-sentence, trying to think of something that made sense.

Grams arched one eyebrow and set her spoon down. "Bonnie?"

Bonnie blurted out, "In History class, our teacher Mr. Saltzman is teaching us about the Salem Witch Trials. He said they made their way to Mystic Falls back in the 1800s? But I thought it was in the 1600s, so I was just seeing if you had any books on it."

She knew it was a lame cover-up, but at least the facts were there.

Grams nodded slowly, taking another bite. "It would take a long time to explain it to you, but our family - the Bennett Family - comes from a long line of witches, Bonnie. It wouldn't surprise me if your powers were already active."

Bonnie choked on her food and she stared at her grandmother with wide eyes, completely speechless. She coughed a bit, patting her chest with her hand to help alleviate the pain, and then took a gulp of water.

" _What_?" she exclaimed.

Grams didn't look perturbed. "What, you think I didn't notice my spellbook go missing? It's the oldest book in our family, and full of spells only Bennett witches can do."

Bonnie had no idea what to say, so she went for the "deer in headlights" approach.

"What are you talking about, Grams?" she laughed, digging into her food voraciously. "There's no such things as witches or magic. You crack me up."

Grams didn't respond, she just kept eating. Bonnie snuck a glance up at her, and saw that even though she was looking down at her food, she was smiling. Bonnie felt her heart skip a beat. How had her grandmother known? And was it even reality? Like, had it actually happened? Had she actually lit the candle with some sort of witchy magic, or was she just imagining it?

"Wash the dishes before you go to bed, please," Grams said when she finished her food, picking up her plate and spoon and taking it to the sink. "Oh, and Bonnie?"

"Yeah?" Bonnie said, finding that her voice was not much more than a squeak.

"Page 37 has a nature spell on it. Try it when you have some downtime." She turned to go to the living room, but Bonnie jumped to her feet and stopped her.

"How do you know it will work?" she whispered meekly, gazing up fearfully into her grandmother's eyes. "I don't believe in magic."

Grams smiled warmly at her, holding her granddaughter's face in her hands.

"Try the spell, Bonnie," she said quietly. "Try the spell, and you will."

 **ooo**

Elena woke with a start, half-expecting to find her Uncle John leering over her. Her heart beating rapidly with fear leftover from the attack, she laid in whatever bed she was currently in, the blankets swathed around her quivering form. She placed the back of one hand over her forehead and stared up at a wooden ceiling, trying to make sense of what had happened.

So Elena's Uncle John had feelings for her. No matter how repulsive, wrong, or horrifying they were, it was impossible to pretend that he hadn't tried to . . . To . . . She couldn't even think the words. After everything that had happened, the constant push-and-pull fighting between them, it made sense. Elena wondered - had she led him on in some way? Made him believe that she felt the same way? She tried her best to go over every encounter she'd had with him since he'd taken her and Jeremy in that summer, trying to pick out any mistakes she had made.

' _This is all my fault_ ,' she thought sadly. ' _I must have done something to make him think I . . .'_

Her thoughts trailed off as the distinct scent of sandalwood and vanilla began to fill her nostrils. Perplexed, she finally began to wonder where she was. She sat up in the bed and gazed around. Rustic interior decorating, dim lighting, bookshelves filled to the brim, a desk with an incessant amount of papers and _more_ books piled upon it . . . Where _was_ she?

As if on cue, Elena's gaze drifted to the bedside table, where a black-and-white picture of Stefan smiled out at her. He was depicted next to a girl with long blonde hair and a roguish twinkle in her eye, and they were both dressed to the nines in costumes from another time period. She reached over and grabbed the picture, which wasn't framed and was lying there on top of (yet another) book. She flipped it over.

 **Lexi and I, 1936.**

Elena's face contorted in a look of confusion. Maybe he took costumes seriously? In any case, he looked extremely handsome with his hair slicked down like that, though she preferred it the way it was now -

A sharp rapping at the wooden doorframe, and Elena's eyes snapped away from the photo. Her heart beat a little bit quicker and she blushed, as though Stefan had possibly heard her thoughts aloud. He was standing in the doorway, his hair lying flat on his head and into his eyes. It was dripping wet and obviou that he had just taken a shower, although he was wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a grey tank top that was dark in some places from the water. Elena's eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the sight of how muscular his arms were. That and the fact that he had a tattoo of an intricate rose on his upper arm.

Elena blushed and set the picture down. She must be out of her right mind to have gone through what she went through, woken up, and then spent a good minute thinking about the good looks of some guy.

"Sorry," she said, her voice a whisper that was so quiet, she was afraid he hadn't heard her.

"No need to apologize," he said, his voice immediately soothing her with its velvet smoothness. "How are you feeling? You fainted."

"Fine," Elena said, hoping he didn't ask any more questions. She felt ashamed of the entire situation and didn't want anyone, let alone him, knowing why she had been in such a state.

' _Such a state . . ._ ' Elena thought, embarrassment growing as the realization dawned on her. She lifted the covers and peeked beneath them, seeing that she was (thankfully) no longer clad in only underwear and a tank top.

"Hope you don't . . . Uh, mind," Stefan said, smiling sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "You didn't exactly have pants on."

"Such a gentleman," Elena said, cracking a joke in a way that only she could. She fidgeted with the blanket, keeping her gaze lowered. Her hair fell forward to shield her face and for a moment, she felt a little more relaxed from her anxiety.

"What . . . What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Stefan asked, the floorboards creaking as he took a step closer to the bed. It was obvious that this was his bedroom, and judging by the massiveness of it, the rest of the house was probably massive. And since his last name was Salvatore, Elena had already put two-and-two together and discerned that they were most likely in the Salvatore Boarding house.

"I took some pills," Elena half-lied. She _had_ taken pills, but she had popped them earlier. But she didn't want Stefan to know what had really happened, so she figured the lie was best. She knew that this would probably make him want her to go home sooner since taking pills was probably not the most comforting thing to hear from a person lying in your bed.

"Hm," Stefan said, his brow furrowing. "You shouldn't do that again."

As usual, Elena's hackles rose. She didn't like being told what to do. She gripped the blankets tightly.

"I think I'm going to do whatever I want," she said lightly, keeping her eyes on the comforter. She was staring so hard at it that her vision was starting to blur. She was shocked - normally she wasn't the type to not make eye contact when she was standing up for herself and asserting her independence. Normally, she was able to put her shoulders back and speak loudly. Had she really been affected that much?

Suddenly, a hand on her shoulder gave her the answer.

Elena flinched so hard that she fell onto her side, holding one hand up as though to fend him off. Stefan stood there, his brow furrows deepening as he put up two defensive hands.

"Whoa, not trying to do anything," he said with a tone of reassurance. "Just trying to make sure you're all right."

"I'm fine, thanks," Elena said a little more brusquely than she'd meant to. "I think maybe I should go, though."

"Are you sure? How about you just sleep here, and I'll take you home in the morning so you can get ready for school?" he suggested.

Elena started to shake her head, but then she thought better of it. Did she really want to go home right now, knowing what awaited her when she got there? She could still feel her muscles aching from how hard she'd struggled, could still feel Uncle John's hands on her body, and she shuddered. No, she couldn't go home yet. She needed to stay right where she was.

"Okay," she whispered.

Stefan stared down at her, looking concerned. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

Elena nodded, perpetuating her lie. "I just had a bad trip, chill out. I'll be fine."

Stefan answered, "Okay. Well, how about I get you something to eat and some water? I can run through the drive-thru somewhere?"

"Sure," she replied, even though she felt a tiny bit bad at accepting free food so openly. Elena watched as he offered her the smallest of smiles and then left the room. She sighed, not realizing that she had been holding her breath. Even though he hadn't been anywhere near her, Elena had felt afraid.

Elena still couldn't believe what had happened to her. It all felt like some horrible nightmare at this point - something that was more like what happens in a book or a movie. How could it be possible for her life to be _this_ full of woe in such a short period of time? Why did it have to be her? Why did her Uncle have to hurt her? Would she ever be able to go home again? And if she did, what would happen to her? With Jeremy in the hospital and her Aunt Jenna worth about as much help as a baked potato, would her Uncle John succeed the second time around? Elena remembered how terrified she had felt at the worst point - when he had pushed her up against the wall in _Jeremy's_ room and had . . . Had . . . She couldn't finish the thought.

A sudden wave of nausea overtook her as the memories assailed her, and Elena promptly leaned over and threw up on the floor.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

 **ooo**

 _It's so cold here, sister. Where are you?_

 _So . . ._

 _. . . Cold._

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Quick update this time! I know this chapter was less dramatic, but I really needed to introduce the new characters. Anyway, see you guys at the next update! We need some Stelena development so get ready. Thanks for the review, Glitzy! I actually already read the chapter, I just haven't gotten around to reviewing yet but I will tomorrow! Thank you so much for the support!**

 **Also, does anyone else imagine Elena/Nina Dobrev's singing voice would sound like Halsey? Just a forewarning, that's how I imagine her voice and I will be using a lot of Halsey songs and also songs the singer Aurora as Elena's songs which she will have "written". So for the purposes of the fic, Halsey and Aurora don't exist in their world. So when I mention the songs and you guys look them up and listen to them, im** agine Elena's voice is exactly like theirs.


	11. Crave

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Puppet**_ " **\- Aurora Aksnes**

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - Crave**

 **ooo**

"The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned."

-Maya Angelou

 **ooo**

Stefan rummaged through his wallet, pulling out the money he needed to pay for Elena's food. He offered a faint smile to the drive-thru worker and handed over the money, waiting patiently. Sighing heavily, he rested his head on the back of his seat. It was so weird, everything that was going on. Not only was he sitting in the drive-thru of a McDonald's in order to buy a hamburger for Elena, but he was due to sneak back into the hospital that night to help her brother Jeremy.

"Here you go, sir!" the fast food worker said with a wide smile. "Have a great night!"

Stefan thanked her, accepted the bag of food, and drove off. He kept his eyes on the road, trying to focus. He had to be careful. If he didn't focus his thoughts, _other_ thoughts bombarded him - horrifying, nightmarish memories that brought him nothing but guilt, self-hatred, and inner torment. He'd been alive for 164 years, nearing 165, and as each year slammed down upon him, the burden became worse and worse. Sometimes, he had the desire to give in to the only thing that could assuage the pain. In some respects, he already _had_ given in; he was just in denial.

The scent of the food reached Stefan's nostrils and made his stomach turn. He placed both hands on the wheel and slowed to a stop at a red light. He took a deep breath. He was hungry. Ever since he'd had to help Jeremy learn how to feed, his hunger levels had been deepening. It had been, what? A couple of days? A couple of days, and Stefan had been on the verge of clawing his own skin off of his arms. Every second felt like torture, and the only thing that had helped him stave it off was focusing on Elena. He knew it was weird and borderline creepy since they'd only had a few conversations, but for some reason it was helping him.

And yet, as much as the thought of her helped him, he could still taste the blood on his lips. He could remember distinctly what it felt like to sink his fangs into that nurse's neck and open her up, feel the warm blood bursting forth like water from a well. He shuddered in his seat, shifting uncomfortably. The thought of the memory itself was making his own blood boil. He felt another shudder run through his body and he whimpered, leaning over the wheel for so long that the light turned green. The car behind him honked, and Stefan had to force his mind to clear so he could continue driving.

Just then, his cell phone began to ring. He quickly answered it, panting slightly.

"H-Hello?" he said, his voice unexpectedly hoarse.

"Hey, it's me," Bonnie answered. "I think I found something."

"What?" Stefan responded, his hunger subsiding to a dull, constant ache. His fingers were trembling, so he curved them tighter around the steering wheel. He was having a hard time seeing the road, and his veins were screaming at him.

"A-a-a-a-a _book_ or something," Bonnie stammered, and Stefan's excellent hearing picked up the sounds of pages turning. "I thought it was a family history book but . . . But it was like a fake cover, or something. It's a spell book!"

"A spell book?" Stefan said. He was trying extremely hard to clear his vision but it was growing increasingly harder to do so. He turned onto his road home, speeding up a little bit to get himself there as fast as possible.

"Yeah!" Bonnie cried. "It's full of spells that only _I_ can do, only someone in the Bennett family. And Stefan, I . . . I think my Grams knows."

"Knows what?" Stefan's eyes caught sight of a nighttime jogger going by the the driveway of his house, heading into the woods nearby. He stopped the car slowly, in the dead center of the road, and stared at the trees in the darkness. He was listening to Bonnie, but it was hard.

"I think she knows I can do magic," Bonnie whispered, sounding emotional. "I don't know what to do. I have all these weird . . . Weird _dreams_ that I think are trying to tell me something, but I don't know how to make sense of it."

"What do you mean?" Stefan was holding the wheel so tightly that it was starting to bend. Luckily, there were no cars behind him and the only house on the block that was lit up was his own.

"I don't know, I just . . . I see flashes of things. Of . . . Of us. All of us, living our lives, but it's different. Everything is weird and just . . . Different."

"What does that have to do with the spell book?"

"I think there's a spell in here that might be able to help me," she explained.

"Okay, then what's the problem?"

"I think . . . I think I need my Grams to help me. But that would mean telling her about me, and possibly . . ."

Stefan was able to focus for a moment as mental alarm bells rang out. "Whoa, whoa, wait just a minute. What are you saying?"

"Stefan, she's going to wonder how all of this started, and she's going to want to know about my dreams. Somehow, I don't think it's going to be easy hiding the fact that you're a vampire. In my dreams, Grams was a witch. If she's a witch in reality . . ."

"Bonnie, I honestly can't follow you. I don't understand why she would need to know I'm a vampire just to help you with a spell. Nobody can know what we are!"

Bonnie was quiet. "We? I thought you said you were the only one?"

Stefan mentally cursed himself, glaring at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He started driving down the road again. He didn't want to tell Bonnie yet. He hadn't been friends with her very long, and even though he had helped her understand her powers (he'd known countless witches throughout the course of his life as a vampire), he didn't quite trust her yet. And if he couldn't 100% trust her, how the heck could he trust her grandmother with the information of his _and_ Jeremy's existence?

"Nothing, it was a mistake," he lied. "I meant me. I just . . . I'm having issues right now. Elena is at my house and I'm trying to bring this food back to her."

"Elena's at your house? Why?" Bonnie asked incredulously.

"Beats me," Stefan said as he pulled into his driveway next to his Uncle Zack's car. "I was taking a walk and she ran into me. Then she fainted, so I bright her to my house because she seemed super freaked out."

Bonnie sighed. "She probably smoked something or took something. When you get back home, make sure it's out of her system and don't let her leave until you're sure of it."

"Okay," Stefan said, turning off his car. His eyes were sliding over to the woods, where he knew the jogger hadn't gone far. "But promise me you won't tell anyone about me, okay Bonnie?"

"But what if I need my Grams' help?" Bonnie protested.

"We'll . . . We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Stefan said distractedly, his attention on the woods.

"Fine," Bonnie said. "I'll give the book a read through. And yes, I promise not to tell your secret. If I find a spell I need help doing, I'll talk to you first and see if there's another way."

"Yeah . . ." Stefan opened his car door, the fast food forgotten. He started walking toward the trees, leaving his car door open. He could hear the footsteps of the jogger about a mile in. He was running through, seemingly headed for main part of town on the path that led to the park.

"Let me know if you need help with Elena," Bonnie said.

"Okay," Stefan said. "Bye, Bonnie."

"Stefan, wait-"

Stefan dropped his phone as he staggered into the trees. His heart was pounding rapidly in his chest, the hunger burning hotter and hotter. He kept trying to picture Elena's face in his head, tried to remind himself that she was in his house and waiting for the food he'd brought, but it was no use. He could hear the jogger's heavy breathing, every slam of his feet to the ground reverberating in his bones. Stefan stumbled against a tree, his fingers digging into the bark as he tried to hold himself back.

"No," he breathed raggedly, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt like ropes were dragging him forward with the force of a black hole. "I can't, I . . ."

' _I need it_.'

The single thought rang out in his head, and he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He felt the veins tingling around his eyes and his canines elongated into fangs. He growled and took off like a wolf chasing a jackrabbit. The wind rushed past him at over 30 miles per hour, barely drowning out the sound of his own mind howling at him. He wanted to turn around so badly, to go back and start over and try to keep the monster in him at bay.

Suddenly, the jogger was right in front of him, knelt over to retie his shoe. He heard a twig crunching beneath Stefan's shoe and he looked up at him. The man stared at him and Stefan forced himself to study his prey. He couldn't be a day over 25, and he was dressed in rather fashionable exercise clothing. His shoes were the newest Nikes on the market and there was a gold watch on his wrist. He looked more perplexed to see Stefan there, and he traded between a glance to the edge of the trees up ahead that led to the town square and to Stefan.

Stefan clenched his fists at his sides, his tank top ruffled and his hair a disheveled mess. He was breathing heavily, trying with every last fiber in his body not to lunge forward. He tried his best to connect with the soul behind the eyes of the man, as a last ditch effort to see the humanity in him. Sometimes, remembering that these were people with lives and dreams and years ahead of them helped him ground himself and staved off the hunger.

The two of them stared at one another, the young jogger seeming to be attempting to make sense of what was going on. He opened his mouth to speak, rising to his feet, but Stefan didn't hear whatever it was he was saying. All he could hear was the boy's heart beating rapidly, pumping blood through his entire body.

He couldn't fight it off anymore. In the blink of an eye, he flashed forward and slammed the prey up against a tree. Stefan's emerald eyes bored holes into the dark, terror-filled eyes of the meal, and he opened his will unto him.

"I'm so sorry," Stefan breathed raggedly, emotion causing his voice to strangle itself. "Please . . . Don't scream."

Euphoria.

 **ooo**

Elena leaned over the hardwood floor, wiping her bile with a towel. She already felt embarrassed at having to explain why the towel was going to need to be washed, and Stefan hadn't even returned yet. She felt awful about making the mess in the first place, and worse yet, she was still feeling sick. She felt dirty and couldn't get the scent of her Uncle John's cologne out of her nostrils. Once she got it clean, she went into Stefan's rather extravagant bathroom and shut the door behind her. Screw the fact that she was just a temporary guest: she was going to shower immediately.

The brunette gingerly removed her top and underwear, wincing when bruises and scrapes were touched. She turned her aching nude body to the mirror and stared at herself. Her skin looked mottled, purple and black from the many places her Uncle had hit her the other day and earlier that night. She stared at a sickly-green bruise on the her throat from where he had held her onto the carpet, and it took her back there - back to the feeling of his body heavy upon hers on her bedroom floor, his fingers working desperately to get into her sweatpants. Elena felt another wave of nausea so she hurried past the bathtub and over to the shower.

Without a care as to the temperature, Elena stepped under the freezing cold stream of water. She felt a shock come over her and she relished it, allowing it to erase all the horrible memories. She was so cold that her skin was going numb, helping her with the pain.

Elena wrapped her quivering arms around her frozen body, resting her forehead against the wall. She was trying hard - _so hard_ \- not to blame herself for everything that had happened. Her mind kept trying to tell her that it was punishment for her neglecting to keep her brother safe at that party. She shouldn't have even brought him with her.

She looked down at her hands and body, wondering what it was about her that seemed so enticing to her Uncle. He had spoken to her as though he believed there was "something" between them, some sort of hidden and unrequited love. Was there something about her that turned him onto the delusion? And what was she supposed to do next? Just go home and pretend nothing had happened? She didn't know if she could fight him off during a second assault, not with her body in as much pain as it was. Elena was fearful of what would happen if that occurred. It filled her with so much fear that tears began to sting her eyes. She tilted her head back, the cold water helping to keep the tears in.

Elena needed something to help her forget, and fast. She was starting to unravel, her mind taking her all the way back to the night her parents died. She didn't want to go there. She turned the water off and, body shivering and numb, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She grabbed the pair of sweatpants and the shirt that Stefan had lent her and, along with her underwear, pulled the warm clothes onto her still-damp body. She was immediately enveloped in the sandalwood and vanilla and it calmed her momentarily. She saw a comb sitting on the bathroom counter and grabbed it, not really caring how weird it was to use someone else's comb (caring about that sort of thing was not exactly part of Elena's personality). She combed her hair, looking at how long it was. It was nearing her hips now.

A pout distorted her pretty face as she looked at the rest of her body, clad in Stefan's clothes - at her breasts, her small waist, wide hips, shapely thighs . . . Was there something about the womanliness of her body that had enticed Uncle John? If so, what could she do to change it? How could one even change the actual shape of their body? Elena felt herself becoming overwhelmed with anxiety, her absentminded hair combing becoming vicious. It wasn't until she accidently ripped out a small clump of her own hair that she noticed she was on the verge of another panic attack. Shakily, she dropped the hair into the trash bin and hurried out of the bathroom.

' _There's gotta be some alcohol in this big-ass house_ ," she thought desperately to herself. She had no intentions of going home until Stefan made her (if she could help it), so she may as well get drunk. That, and it would certainly help her stave off the memories since they were still so fresh in her mind. She left the room and stepped out into the hall.

The Salvatore Boarding House was almost unnecessarily extravagant in its decor and design, with arches and pillars it didn't need, expensive art that Elena was scared to breathe near, and an overall air of pompousness that didn't really seem to befit the brooding, almost shy personality that Stefan had. Elena looked at everything as she tip-toed down the hallway past statues, paintings, and closed doors, her eyes ghosting over everything with understated awe.

All-of-a-sudden, one of the doors opened and a man stepped out, a piece of paper in one hand and an apple in the other, his eyes focused on the paper. Elena gasped and stopped in the middle of the crushed velvet rug beneath her feet, yards away from the top of a mahogany stairwell, and the man looked at her in surprise.

Elena couldn't think of what to say, so she said what was on her mind.

"Your house is doin' too much."

The man arched one eyebrow, looking her up and down. He had a strained look in his eyes, one that didn't seem to have anything to do with seeing a random teenage girl in his house wearing his - was Stefan his son or? - wearing the clothes of Stefan.

"Well, young lady," he sighed. "Unfortunately, when one inherits a house, the free rent keeps them from complaining about the interior design."

Elena couldn't stop the smile from twitching about her lips. "I guess not. It's definitely a beautiful house, just . . . I think it's worth more than every house on my block combined."

The man chuckled and shook his head. "You're probably right. If I hadn't inherited it, the monthly rent would take up an entire year's salary."

A full-on smile spread across Elena's face, surprising herself. She totally wasn't in the mood to smile, but for some reason, he had dragged one out of her. She almost felt normal, like the way she had been before this past Summer. Before everything went wrong. For a second, she could forget about the reason why she was in Stefan's house to begin with,

"Sorry to just, appear in your house," she said, holding out her hand politely. "I'm Elena."

"Hi, Elena," the man said, reaching out to shake it. "I'm Stefan's uncle. My name is Zack. Are you . . . Are you his girlfriend?"

Elena felt her face growing hot. "Oh! Um, no. No, I'm definitely not his girlfriend."

Zack gave her a weird look that was tinted with an amused half-smile. He looked at her clothes. "So your normal clothes are oversized sweatpants and V-necks that suspiciously match the ones Stefan wears to bed?"

Elena ran her fingers through her hair, feeling embarrassed. She knew how this must look.

"He's just . . . Helping me out," she said, gesturing to the stairwell. "Is this the way to the kitchen?"

Zack nodded. "Yeah, it's just down the stairs and to the right. You have to walk through the living room and hang another right. This place is pretty big, though, so I'll show you."

Elena followed him down the stairs, her eyes taking in the decor as she went. The more she saw, the more in awe she became. As they came to the landing and she saw the living room, fireplace, and furniture, she almost choked on her own saliva from gasping so loudly. Her head whipped around as she turned and tried to see everything at once. She stepped down into the living room, her skin becoming warm from the fire crackling in the fireplace.

"Wow," was all she could say.

Zack paused at the entryway to the dining room. "Yeah, it's definitely beautiful architecture. Do you have any interest in architecture?"

Elena laughed shortly, awkwardly. "Hah, uhhh no. I don't really have an interest in anything except like, singing. Music, you know."

Zack's eyebrows shot up and he changed direction, walking by her to the other side of the living room. The entire wall was made of windows with heavy maroon curtains drawn back from them. It was dark outside, so Elena couldn't see anything. She put her attentions on Zack, who was standing off to the right of the window with a genuine smile on his face.

"Do you play piano?" he asked, gesturing to a piano with the cover on.

"Yes," Elena said, pulling her hair to one side of her head. "Since I was little."

"Feel free to use the piano while you're here, then," Zack said, patting the top of the ink-black wood. "Now, why don't you sit down? What was it you needed from the kitchen?"

Elena stood there for a moment. She knew the only thing that could truly help her feel better was to sing and play some music, but she was nervous. She hadn't ever sung outside of her bedroom and she was nervous. Her music was a direct reflection of how she felt at any given moment. It was like a diary for her, and she'd used her lyrics to keep her grounded during many breakdowns. If she could describe how she felt right now, she'd have to say she felt like her soul was expanding, trying to escape the confines of her body. She was consciously keeping her breathing normal when inside her mind, she was screaming. She could hardly think the words ' _My uncle assaulted me with sexual intentions tonight'_ without feeling her throat ache. If she ever needed music, it was now.

"Just some water would be nice?" Elena said, rubbing her throat absentmindedly where Uncle John's fingers had been. It hurt.

"All right," Zack said, walking away toward the kitchen.

Elena took a deep breath and sat down on the piano bench, tossing her hair so that it spilled down to the small of her back. She lifted the lid of the piano and closed her eyes. She remembered when he mother had signed her up for piano lessons the Summer she turned 9. Her mom had been so proud of her at her first recital, it was almost painful to even be sitting here. Her fingers trembled as she touched the keys lightly, the memory of her mother's smile fading in her mind.

Zack brought her some water and set it down on top of the piano. Elena was mildly bummed out, because she had originally wanted to search the kitchen for some alcohol.

"What do you play?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest with the magazine he'd been reading tucked under one arm.

"My own stuff," Elena murmured, resting her hands in her lap.

"Do you sing, too?" he asked curiously.

Elena nodded, finding that her voice was gone. She was much too modest to sing aloud, so she settled for playing a simple song that she had learned in grade school. Her fingers flew across the keys with ease, withdrawing impressed applause from Zack. When the song was over, he patted her on the shoulder. She flinched.

"That was great, well done," he said. "Anyway, Stefan should be home soon so . . . You're welcome to stay here, or go back up to his room."

"Thank you," Elena said. Her skin was burning where he had touched her. She didn't want anyone to touch her again.

"Have a good night, Elena," Zack said, giving her one last warm smile before leaving to head back up the stairway.

Elena waited until he was gone before she turned back to the piano. She reached for her water and took a couple of sips. Her trembling had worsened and outside, rain had begun to fall. The raindrops were steady and heavy, and as Elena sat there and stared at the dark wall, she felt her emotions began to waver. Tears spilled out and down her cheeks, and it was agony trying to keep herself from sobbing aloud. She buried her face in her hands and wept into them, feeling the overwhelming sadness and leftover fear taking over her.

' _What's wrong with me?'_ she thought miserably. ' _Why is my life like this?'_

Weariness overtook the tears and she stopped crying momentarily, sniffling. The words were coming to her, filling her up with warmth and promises of healing. She placed her hands on the piano keys and without much preamble, began to sing.

 _A dancing puppet doll made of wood_

 _I bet he'd run away one day if he could choose to leave or stay_

 _He's got a string attached to every bone_

 _She's got him round her little finger so she'll never feel alone_

 _Oh sometimes I wonder, did it go_

 _When lots of men had caused his soul_

 _Dreaming of a wonderland_

 _Wakes up and he's a man_

Elena felt the weight lifting off of her shoulders, making her feel at least a little bit better. Whenever she sang, it made her forget about all of her troubles, as cliche as that was. Every brush of her fingertips against the piano keys reminded her of better times, of times when her mother used to sit on the couch and listen to her play for hours.

Why? Why did her Uncle John do this to her? Elena couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop thinking about her panicked fighting and struggling, feeling his wriggling fingers all over her body. Couldn't stop thinking about the look in his eyes. It was just . . . Dead. Nothing was in there. It was like he was on autopilot. She had showered and yet she still felt like she was covered in slime.

 _When they were out to buy her wedding-gown_

 _She wanted nothing but the dress over a hundred thousand pound_

 _But what she wants, she gets, or she will cry_

 _Hits the man with her umbrella_

 _She'll continue till' he dies_

 _Sometimes I wonder, did it go_

 _When lots of men had caused his soul_

 _Dreaming of a wonderland_

 _Wakes up and he's a man_

 _Oh, taking control over another man's mind_

 _Taking control of his mind_

She brought the song to a close, her raspy voice brushing past her lips in a whisper. She let the final piano notes hang in the air, leaving her feeling empty. She stared miserably into nothingness, her vision blurring with yet more unshed tears.

"That was . . . That was amazing, Elena."

Elena jumped, her entire body blushing with embarrassment at having been caught. She whirled around on the piano bench and saw Stefan standing there. He was soaking wet, his hair flopping down into his eyes, and his clothes were dripping rainwater onto the floor. His shirt clung to every sharp crag in his muscled, sculpted flesh, and Elena had to look away. She felt like she was betraying herself, after what had happened to her that night.

"I see you forgot the food," Elena pointed out with a sharp laugh, drawing her wits back up around her and mentally pulling on the mask she used every day to make everyone think she was okay.

"Yeahhhh," Stefan grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood in the entryway of the living room. "I got it, but the rain was so bad that it soaked the bag through."

Elena didn't care. At this point, she just wanted to get drunk. She pointed to the kitchen.

"Please tell me you at least have Tequila?"

Stefan smiled. "I can do you one better. Follow me."

Elena followed him through the dining room and into a large drawing room. It had walls lined with books, beautiful couches, and a very noticeable bar. Stefan led her over to it, showing her all the different types that there was to choose from. Elena bypassed the shot, though, instead choosing to grab an entire bottle and tip it down her throat. It burned the entire way down.

"Slow down," Stefan said suddenly, the sharpness in his tone surprising Elena. She felt him gently taking the bottle out of her hand, and her heart skipped a beat when their fingers brushed.

"Sorry," Elena breathed, her voice sounding even raspier than before. "I had a rough night."

"Tell me about it," he muttered as he turned to the bar and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He knocked it back in a split second and moved to put the bottle away.

"Mm-mm," Elena protested, reaching for it. It hadn't hit her yet, but she could feel it sizzling in the pit of her abdomen. A few more gulps, and she knew she'd forget all about the day and Uncle John.

Stefan held it out of her grasp, one of his straight, bold eyebrows raised upward. He looked down at her in question. "You really think you need more? You just guzzled like three shots in one go."

"Give it to me," Elena whined, taking another step forward. He was so tall that she had to stand on tip-toe just to reach up, and when her forehead brushed his chin in the process, she felt her breath rush out of her. She lifted her eyes to his and saw that even though a playful smile was on his face, there was a strange look in his eyes. The same look she'd seen in his eyes every time he looked at her.

"Why should I?" he asked, laughing. "Why should I engage in your law-breaking?"

Elena was in no mood to joke around. She wanted that alcohol, and she wanted it now. If she didn't get completely fucked up right the Hell now, she was going to go insane. She was tired of seeing her Uncle's face every time she closed her eyes. She surprised Stefan by placing one of her hands on his shoulder and using it to help her jump upward and snatch the bottle out of his hand. In the process, she accidentally tangle her feet on his and almost fell over.

Stefan's blazing hot hands grabbing onto her waist to help stop the fall was enough to make her go insane.

" _Don't fucking touch me_!" Elena shrieked, the feeling of his touch taking her back to hours ago.

Stefan immediately removed his hands, a look of intense concern coloring his expression dark. He ducked his head a little bit, trying to get her to look at him, but she was having none of it. She used her fingers to tousle her hair as she put her lips to the mouth of the liquor bottle and downed some more of it. She swayed slightly, stumbling over to the couch and spilling the liquid a bit. She sat down on the couch cushions, and Stefan stayed where he was.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"No," Elena pouted, drinking more. The bottle, once half-full, was now only a quarter of the way full. The teenage girl was sufficiently tipsy at this point, being the total lightweight she was. "My brother's in the hospital, my uncle is a piece of shit, and all I can think to do is get drunk."

Stefan finally came around the couch and sat down on the far end, crossing one leg over the other in the way that men do, and resting one arm on the back of the couch. It almost looked like his fingers were reaching for her.

Or maybe she was just hallucinating.

She drank some more, and this time when Stefan reached over to grab the bottle away from her, she was too faded to stop him. She just smiled dreamily, giggling wildly and curling up sideways on the couch. She rested her head on the back of it, her hair falling completely into her face.

"I am so fucking drunk already," she laughed.

"I can see that," Stefan said as he walked over to put the alcohol back on the bar. "How about I help you up to my room? You can take my bed, I'll sleep down here."

"Mmmmno," she said, shaking her head. All she wanted to do was lay there. She didn't want to move or think or sleep. "Let's just talk."

"Talk," he repeated, hands on his hips by the bar. "Talk about what? How wrong it is for me to have let you drink that much so fast?"

Elena's brow furrowed in annoyance. "God, stop being such a party pooper. Come sit by me and talk to meeee."

Stefan didn't move. "You should really get to bed. I don't know what happened to you tonight, but you fainted and that's not exactly an indicator of perfect health."

"Noooo," Elena mumbled, laying down fully on the couch.

"Then I should probably just take you home."

In her inebriated state, Elena couldn't stop herself from becoming overwhelmed. She immediately burst out into tears, sobbing miserably into the couch as she curled in on herself. Stefan seemed to move inhumanly fast as he came to her side, sitting down beside her on the couch and pushing her up until she was sitting upright. She felt one of his hands rubbing her back in small circles while the other touched her chin and guided her to look at him. She looked up at him with tears clinging to her eyelashes, but she was so drunk that she was seeing three of him.

"What's wrong?" he asked sincerely. "This seems to be about more than just alcohol."

"Nothing," Elena whispered, wiping her eyes and then sagging forward. She was beyond dizzy at this point, and she was swaying all over the place. Finally, after having to pick her up from falling to the floor a few times, Stefan settled upon pulling her to his side. Elena felt his warmth envelop her and she pulled her knees to her chest, allowing her head to pillow on his chest beneath his shoulder. He was tense, but his arm still wrapped itself around her.

"Elena-"

"Shut _up_ ," Elena groaned, her eyes rolling up into her head drunkenly. "I just want to sit here. Can we just sit here?"

Stefan was quiet, and then he answered her by relaxing back against the couch. Elena adjusted herself until she was more comfortable, completely curled up against his side, with her hands tight against her chest. His breathing was steady and his heartbeat calmed her nerves. For the first time all night, Elena felt comfortable. At ease.

"I feel . . . Mmm . . ." Her brows furrowed for a second as she struggled with her slurred words. She nuzzled her face against his shirt, inhaling his scent. God, did he smell good.

"What?" he breathed, and Elena felt her cheek against her hair. For some reason, she felt like the moment was extremely intense. _Too_ intense. She had a feeling that if she were to suddenly look up, their lips would meet. Terror paralyzed her. His breath was hot and in her position, she could feel it on the back of her neck. Her skin tingled.

"I feel safe," she whimpered, and then she was crying again. He seemed to hesitate before his other arm came around the front of her, and then he embraced her fully and completely. The strength of him seemed to absorb all of her trauma as she wept, feeling ashamed of herself for everything she had ever done leading up to the moment she let her Uncle John attack her.

Sometimes, it all felt like it was too much. She didn't know how much longer she could do this, this life. But at least for now, she truly did feel safe. The rain was coming down in buckets outside, it was silent save for Elena's quiet sobs and Stefan's breathing. He was holding her just tight enough to keep her together at the seams and she feared that if he let go of her, then she would never be okay again.

"St-Stefan, I feel _safe_. Don't you understand?" she wailed, her tears soaking his shirt. She had known this guy for less than a week and for some reason, she felt like he was the only person who she could call a true friend. She knew nothing about him beyond what he'd told her, didn't know any of his hobbies or interest, and had even argued with him at the party the night before, and still . . . She knew she was safe with him.

Stefan sighed, and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. He tightened his hold on her.

"You _are_ safe, Elena," he murmured against her hair. "I don't know what happened, but with me, you're safe. But, Elena . . . ?"

"Mmmwhat?" she breathed out, her tears leaking out of her half-lidded, sleepy eyes.

"So do I."

 **ooo**

" _Do you fully understand the consequences for a spell like this? Do you know what could happen if you change even one thing about the past? A world with no order is a world doomed!"_

" _And a world without my sister is a life doomed! I don't care about the consequences. There won't be any. I know we're doing the right thing. I . . ."_

" _Josie?"_

" _Aren't we?"_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Well, that got to be pretty long this time, yay! I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave feedback, I'm starting to think nobody likes this story anymore :/ I feel like I'm shouting into the void . . . In any case, I won't give up and I'll keep updating!**


	12. Oblivion

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **I'm Just a Shadow**_ " **\- SHEL**

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - Oblivion**

 **ooo**

"Everything dies. That is the law of life - the bitter, unchangeable law."

\- David Clement-Davies

 **ooo**

Jeremy was losing his mind. So far, he'd snuck out of his hospital room 5 times since Stefan left. 4 out of 5 of those times, he'd managed to snag someone, feed from them, and compel them to forget ever meeting him. The 5th time went much the same, but couldn't be considered "successful" due to the nature of the event. He felt sick to his stomach at the memory, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd gotten to the point where he was so hungry that he was clawing his own flesh out of his arm and not noticing it because it was healing so quickly. He didn't understand why Stefan never came back the second night like he was supposed to, and was in fact so upset over this that he'd punched a hole in the bathroom mirror and then compelled the nurses and his doctor to pretend they never saw the damage.

All of Jeremy's emotions were ridiculously over-the-top, to be quite frank. Everything seemed to make him tip the scales into irrational feelings. He tried watching TV at one point and had found the joke on a kid's show so funny that he laughed for nearly a half-hour. Then he'd picked up a magazine a nurse had left there, crying real tears at a tabloid article that was most likely rumor. After that, he'd thought about how annoyed he was at his Uncle for stopping by just to tell him that he was going to be released tomorrow morning, and that he would be driving him straight to school since he was "all better". That annoyance had in turn caused him to remember what his Uncle had done to Elena, and the annoyance turned into full-blown rage.

The rage had caused him to leave the hospital right around 2:30PM that day (which was consequently when he found out that his skin burned painfully in the sun to the point of near-death, so he'd had to compel someone to give him a random car with tinted windows), wander home to wait for him, and then accidentally pounce on Elena right when she walked in the door. Hence the 5th feeding occurrence and its unsuccessfulness. His rage had been so ferocious that he couldn't hold himself back from drinking her blood. He'd missed her throat in his zeal and had accidentally bitten onto the back of her neck. Then, he'd realized what he'd done, so he compelled her to forget, ensuring that her hair was covering the wound (which he placed a Band-Aid on), and had compelled her to fall asleep. He'd tucked her into her bed and left, ditching the car in the hospital parking lot.

Now, Jeremy was sitting on the edge of his mattress, thinking on what he had done, and staring at the dark window. He had been waiting for Stefan to come back all day, but he hadn't. It was nearing midnight now, and nobody had come to his room except for a nurse. He could hear the rain pelting the roof, could see droplets sliding down the hospital room window, and all he could think about was his sister's blood.

It had tasted like so many different things - a turmoil of emotions that he hadn't known his sister was experiencing. A little bit of sarcasm, a little bit of self-hatred, and a _lot_ of grief. The grief was so powerful that it had increased his _own_ grief over his parents' deaths tenfold and now he felt almost catatonic. Amidst that catatonia, Jeremy's fangs ached for more.

More of his sister's blood.

Jeremy buried his face in his hands and screamed. He hated himself for it. He hated himself for what he had done, how unnatural it was. How unnatural _he_ was. Everything was so surreal. How could he keep his promise to his sister to protect her if he himself couldn't be trusted with her? How was he supposed to go to school if he couldn't go in the sun and couldn't stop feeling so hungry? How was he supposed to make it through the day with all these insanely overwhelming emotions?

He needed help, _badly_.

As if on cue, the door to his hospital room swung open. Jeremy jumped up and whirled around to face whoever had entered, moving more quickly than he had expected. He was having a hard time getting used to his significantly increased speed, so he accidentally slammed backward into the wall, causing a crack to run the length of it, floor to ceiling. Jeremy stared at a pair of icy blue eyes sitting underneath a shock of unruly black hair.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," the man said, throwing a duffel bag onto the bed. "Put on the clothes in that bag."

Jeremy's brow furrowed in bemusement. "Why would I do that? I don't know who you are!"

The blue-eyed man rolled his eyes. "I told you - I'm the Holy Spirit, come to save you from your sins and Hell and all that jazz. Will you just get dressed?"

Jeremy hesitated.

The man suddenly zoomed forward, causing Jeremy to gasp. The gasp was cut short when the man wrapped his hand around his throat and pinned him to the wall. Jeremy choked and stuttered, his hands clawing at the man's vicelike grip. He was astounded at the fact that he couldn't get free, horrified at the other man's strength, and curious all at the same time.

Black veins spidered down from reddened eyes and the ebony-haired stranger bared his vicious, sharp fangs.

"Get. Dressed," he growled threateningly. "Or I can just kill you here and now and make my life a Hell of a lot easier."

Jeremy felt himself being hurled away from the man, his body flying across the room at top speed and crashing into the bedside table. He knocked over the heart and vitals monitors, table, and potted flowers that had rested on the table top. Porcelain shattered, but Jeremy was on his feet and recovered in seconds. Wordlessly, he grabbed the duffel bag and went into the bathroom. He didn't know who the guy was, but he was a vampire and he was stronger than Jeremy. It was enough to get him to follow orders.

After putting on the clothes the guy had provided for him (which suspiciously were Jeremy's own and had most certainly come out of his dresser at home), Jeremy stepped back out into the room. He briefly noted that the mess in the corner had been cleaned up, and then he looked at the black-haired man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Who was this guy?

"We have some place to be," the man said, walking past him and going toward the door.

"Uhhh . . . Where?" Jeremy asked, thinking of how terrible the weather was.

The man smiled, a quick twitch of the lips. "Do you like fast food?"

 **ooo**

Tyler groaned internally as he walked into The Grill behind his father. A group of his friends was here, playing pool in the back and seeming to thoroughly enjoy themselves. They waved at him, obviously wanting him to come over, but Tyler only shook his head. His mother and father had already headed towards a table. His friends booed and jeered at him, but all he could do was shrug and follow his parents.

"Class A friends you have over there, Tyler," his mother said, unfolding her napkin so she could put it in her lap. The waitress placed menus in front of all of them and then left to get them some waters.

"They're just from my football team," Tyler muttered, focusing his eyes on the menu. He was trying not to think about what his father had done, about the destruction of his trophy case. Instead, he tried to focus on his confusion. Why had he gotten _so_ angry? It meant sense for him to be pissed at his father for hitting him, but not as angry as he had been. The anger had been overwhelming, like a boiling pit of magma at his core. He hadn't wanted to just hit his father back.

He'd wanted to kill him.

"Don't talk to your mother in such a lackadaisical way, son," his father said as he looked over the Dinner entrees. "Just because you're in football doesn't mean everyone on the team is on the same plane as you."

Tyler narrowed his eyes. His anger was ignited already. "What do you mean, 'on the same plane'?" he challenged.

His father shifted in his seat and exchanged glances with Tyler's mother, Carol. Then, he turned a disapproving glance upon his son.

"I don't think the dinner table is the best place to discuss this sort of thing, Tyler," he advised. "Why don't we just try to have a nice family dinner?"

Tyler set his menu down. "Yeah. A nice family dinner at a restaurant. Where people make the food for us? Not like we could go home where we have a perfectly good kitchen. Oh, but wait! Even our kitchen is full of servants and maids. Mom has to have her own cook."

" _Tyler_ ," Carol hissed, her eyes casting furtive, embarrassed glance around the restaurant.

Tyler just shook his head in disgust, slamming his menu shut as the waitress came back over. The girl didn't seem to notice the level of discord amongst the small family, and she chipperly blazed through her introduction and questions about what they were going to eat.

"Nothing for me," Tyler said in a fake sing-song voice, which only earned a dark glare from his eternally-disapproving father.

"Tyler, you need to eat something. You have a football game this weekend. You need to-"

" _Fine_ ," Tyler said loudly, crossing his arms over his broad chest and scooting down in his seat. "I'll have a salad." He gave his father an extremely false smile and then looked away, shaking his head.

"Excuse my son, he'll have a cheeseburger."

Tyler's leg started shaking angrily, but he kept quiet. Across the restaurant, his eyes settled upon Vickie, who was also a waitress. She gave him a small wave, but he couldn't return it. She wasn't exactly of the "Class A" breed, and Tyler did _not_ want to know what his parents would think if they found out he was seeing her.

The waitress thanked them for their orders and walked toward the kitchen of the restaurant, leaving Tyler alone with his parents. They were both watching him carefully, scrutinizing him, and Tyler was beginning to feel like a bug under a microscope.

" _What_?" he hissed.

"I'm trying to figure out where my son went!" Carol cried, keeping her voice quiet.

Tyler clenched his jaw and looked directly at his father. "Why don't you ask your husband?"

"Oh, come on, Tyler!" his father snapped, slamming down his now-empty water glass. "Your attitude is ridiculous!"

"You wanna have a family dinner?" Tyler hissed, leaning forward with his arms still crossed. "Fine. We'll have a family dinner. Why don't you tell Mom what happened before we left today?"

His father looked about ready to explode. He started to stand up, but Carol placed her hand on his arm to stop him.

"Richard, what is he talking about?" she asked with concern in her eyes. "What did you do?"

Richard took his wife's hand and looked her in the eyes. "Nothing, honey. He's making stuff up." Then, he glared at Tyler again. "Can you _please_ stop acting unruly and just settle _down_?"

Tyler felt the rage bubbling up, consuming him and booming outward. Before he knew what was going on, he was standing up and panting heavily, his teeth bared in a snarl. The table was flipped completely over and his mother had gone crashing to the floor. Richard was helping her to her feet, looking at his son with the most animosity that he had ever seen in his eyes. Tyler felt his own anger ebbing and he took a step back. Everyone in the restaurant was staring at him in horror.

"I'm . . . Sorry," he choked, backing away slowly. He saw Vickie looking on in a mixture is astonishment and concern, and he started to feel the shame trickling in. Without another second to spare, he whirled around and dashed out of the restaurant.

"Tyler, wait!"

Tyler stopped just outside the door to The Grill, seeing that Vickie had come after him. He scowled. He didn't want to talk to her right now. He could feel everyone staring at him through the front windows of The Grill and he knew that any second, his father might come after him. He didn't know why he had done what he'd done - he couldn't even remember it, to be honest.

"Not now, Vick," he said, one hand on his hip and the other held out to stop her. "I just . . . I can't. I . . . I need to go."

"What happened in there, Ty?" Vickie asked, sincerity in her eyes.

"I don't know," he said, turning away from her. "I'll see you later."

"What? No, _wait_!" she protested, following him and grabbing his hand to stop him.

Tyler felt another flare of anger take over him and he whirled around, startling Vickie. He grabbed her upper arms tightly, eliciting a yelp from her. He pushed his face close to hers.

"I just knocked over a fucking table and my mom got _hurt_ , and you want to talk to me right _now_?" he snarled.

"Tyler," Vickie whimpered, her eyes filling with tears. "I just want to help."

"I don't need your help!" he shouted, earning them more than a few shocked looks from passerby. He felt like he was trapped within the storm of his own anger, watching in horror at how he was acting but unable to do anything about it. Tyler let go of Vickie and then, before he could stop himself, said the worst thing possible.

"Why don't you just go back to your trailer, Vickie?" he called over his shoulder as he walked off. "I don't need your help, and I don't want it."

 **ooo**

Bonnie slammed the spellbook shut and looked around the classroom. All of her peers were packing up to leave for the day and the bell was one minute away from ringing. Her Algebra teacher was desperately trying to announce the homework over the sounds of the loud talking, and people were already trickling out. Bonnie hurried to stuff the spellbook into her bag and rush out. She couldn't believe it, but she had actually found it. She'd found the spell that could fix everything.

"Bonnie, wait!"

Bonnie stopped in the middle of the hallway, seeing Stefan waving to her from where he was standing near some lockers. He pushed through the crowd to come to her side.

"Where's Elena?" she asked curiously, wondering if Elena had slept the night at his house and if she had come to school with him. She didn't want to seem too interested in Elena's well-being though, since things between them weren't in a positive place. Stefan was the "therapist" type, and he'd want to talk to her about it. Bonnie didn't have the time or the energy to crack open that egg right now.

"I don't know," Stefan replied, slipping his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket. "I was hoping you'd seen her?"

"Didn't she sleep over?" Bonnie asked. "In any case, she made it pretty clear that she doesn't consider me a friend, so I have no idea where she could be."

Stefan sighed and tilted his head to the side, exasperatedly saying, "She crashed on my couch and when my Uncle woke us up for school, she was acting really weird."

"Weird, like how?"

"Just . . . Like she didn't want to go, super agitated. I honestly thought she was going to start yelling at us at any moment. Any question I asked her got me a snappy reply, I mean . . . She just seemed super pissed."

Bonnie frowned. "Did she leave with you?"

Stefan nodded. "Yep, I watched her walk off to her class myself. But then when I got to American History, she was suspiciously absent." He raised his eyebrows at the end to punctuate his words.

Bonnie muttered, "I knew she was screwed up, but skipping school on the second day is decidedly _un-_ Elena." She looked behind her, down the hall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Elena ducking around a corner or something.

"What about you?" Stefan asked, gesturing to her with his elbow while he kept his hands in his jacket pockets. "Why do you look so anxious?"

Bonnie turned back to face him. "Remember how I told you I found something?"

"The spellbook?"

"Uh-huh," she answered. "It actually did have a spell in it. One that deciphers dreams."

Stefan's brow furrowed curiously and he held out his hand. "Can I see it?"

Bonnie handed over the book and watch him open it. He turned a few pages, and then frowned.

"It's in Latin," he announced. "Do you read Latin?"

Bonnie shook her head, puzzled. She moved so she was standing next to the much-taller boy, her eyes scanning a page full of what appeared to her as English. Her jaw dropped in a small gasp and she looked up at him.

"That's why it's a Bennett spell book!" she said in a low voice, so as to not draw any other student's prying ears or eyes. "Because only a Bennett can do these spells!"

"Okay, so what does that mean?" Stefan asked, allowing her to take the book from him.

"It means I may not need my Grams' help after all. I mean, I don't know a lot about magic or anything, but maybe if it's a Bennett spell, then I don't need very much power? Stefan, this could be it - it could tell us everything!"

"But I don't really know what you mean yet. You haven't really explained your dreams."

"They're just . . . Weird dreams. Little snippets of us living our lives, but everything is different. There are people in them that I've never met, people who were close to us. People we loved." Bonnie looked off into the distance, seeing the images flashing in her mind like a film reel. Smiles and laughter, tears and blood. She felt a hole inside of her, a loss that she couldn't explain. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Hey," Stefan said, arms crossed over his chest. He ducked his head down, trying to look her in the eyes. "What's up? What do you see?"

Bonnie felt the images speeding up, blurring until only one stood out. She felt woozy and closed her eyes, stumbling to the right all-of-a-sudden. Stefan caught her, his strong hands on her upper arms, holding her in a way that made it seem like he was comforting her so nobody in the hallways looked too long. She felt his hand on the back of her head, pressing her face into his shirt. She knew he had excellent hearing for miles, so she spoke into the fabric.

"I see . . . I see Jeremy . . ." she whispered, watching the images go by. "He's . . . _Dead_."

Bonnie's breathing speed picked up as the panic overwhelmed her. She saw him lying dead on the floor of a dark room . . . Or was it a cave? A few yards away, she saw herself lying on the ground, her mouth open and eyes unblinking. Her fingers were twitching and then . . .

" _Elena_?" Bonnie whispered in horror, tangling her fingers in her hair.

She saw Elena grabbing something off of the pyre Jeremy had fallen next to, holding up and saying something she couldn't hear, and then she disappeared. In less than a blink, she was gone, and then the vision dissipated.

Bonnie came out of her reverie, choking and gasping. Panic overwhelmed her and she grabbed onto the front of Stefan's black tee shirt. She gazed up fearfully into his emerald eyes, beseeching him to listen to her.

"I _need_ to do this spell, Stefan!" she whispered, hands shaking and turning white as she tightened her hold. "I need to make things right! Something . . . Something isn't right!"

"Okay, all right," Stefan said in a soothing tone. He placed his hands on her shoulders and bent down to look into her eyes on her height level. "Everything is going to be fine. But that's a bit much for us to deal with right now. Let's start by looking for Elena?"

Bonnie nodded, in a slight daze. She refocused her mind. "We should start at the hospital, where Jeremy is."

"Okay," Stefan said, his eyes twinkling as he smiled at her. "After we find Elena, we'll start thinking about the spell."

"Stefan, something bad is going to happen," Bonnie breathed, prompting Stefan to pull her into a friendly, comforting hug. "I can feel it."

Above her, Stefan had no response. Somehow, he knew she was right.

 **ooo**

Caroline choked on the blood that was gurgling in her throat, unable to move as her assailant circled her like a lion before its prey. She felt fear slithering its icy way through her veins, causing her to start crying silently. She tried to move but couldn't, what for the large hunk of wood jutting its way out of the middle of her stomach. It had hurt at first, but now Caroline's body was numb.

"How does it feel?" the woman who had hurt her asked, stopping at Caroline's side with her hands on her hips. She cocked her head like a observant owl and waited.

Caroline tried to talk, and more blood spilled out of her mouth, sliding sideways down her face and into her golden blonde hair. The sandwich she had been eating was resting to the right of her, slowly becoming soaked with her crimson life force, which was rapidly pooling out from underneath her body.

"Whatever," the girl said, shrugging and shifting all of her weight onto one foot. She was wearing stiletto heels that, in Caroline's opinion, belonged on a stripper. The girl, with her long, flowing brunette curls, looked down at her perfect manicure. "I'll just wait for you to die, and then my plan should work."

Caroline still couldn't talk or move, but she was definitely confused. Confused, nearing death, and terrified.

The woman smirked and sashayed over to Caroline's closet. Caroline mustered up the last vestiges of her strength so she could look over at her. At first, she had thought she knew who the person was. But the more the person talked, the more she realized that it wasn't who she thought it was.

It was someone very different, and obviously much worse.

The woman tossed her hair back and started throwing clothes off of their hangers, holding them up to herself and seeing how they looked before doing. She talked as Caroline continued to choke and gasp, and as darkness started to creep in at the edges of her vision.

"It won't make much sense to you or to any of the little annoying brats yet, but everything here is wrong. Nothing is the way it's supposed to be and we aren't actually from here." The woman picked out a black flouncy party dress and tossed it onto the bed, starting to removed her clothes.

She continued, "As far as I know, Klaus and I are the only ones who know what's going on, and Klaus doesn't even know I'm alive. _But_ he's going to find out soon enough when you're dead and he comes to see who did it. And then he's going to be super pissed and out for blood because he _loves_ you or something sappy like that." The woman shimmed into the party dress, messing with her hair in the closet mirror.

"I don't know if I'll see you on the other side, but I really hope not. You were always an insufferable little brat," the woman said as she stalked back over, her hips swaying as she smirked down at Caroline, who was breathing her last breaths.

"Man, you're just as pathetic as you always were, only here you're more . . ." She grimaced, reaching forward to pick up a piece of Caroline's hair and then pursed her lips in disgust. "I don't know, it's a toss-up between your bottle blonde hair . . . Or your seriously bad eyebrows."

Caroline was screaming internally, completely confused, and utterly horrified. She gathered the very last bits of her strength and reached up to try and touch the woman's face. As she did, her very last breath lingering in the back of her throat, it all came rushing back to her at once. Everything. All of it made sense. The woman no longer looked unfamiliar. In fact, Caroline knew her very well after all.

"Ka . . . _ungh_!"

The woman's smirk deepened as she jammed her clawlike fingernails into the blonde's chest cavity, feeling her weak heart stop beating. She squeezed it until the organ burst, and she felt the tissue and fleshy excrement sliding over her skin.

"Rest in Peace, Blondie," the woman said as she rose to her feet, running her tongue along her bloodied fingers. Then, she looked at them, getting an idea. She giggled, wrinkling her nose at her own smarts. She turned to the wall and, using the blood, she wrote Klaus's full name. She went back to Caroline rapidly-cooling body and dipped her fingers in again, gathering more blood. She tasted some more of it, and then wrote the rest of her message on the wall.

"Hope it gives him some massive déja vu," she said before she stalked out of the room and down the hallway, her heels click-clacking the entire way.

The bedroom was eerily silent as Caroline's unseeing eyes pointed up at the wall. The words the brunette monster had written were dripping vermilion down the plaster.

 **Game on.**

 **ooo**

" _You can't do this! You can't just take someone's life and play it like a game!"_

" _Sure you can, Lizzie. You just have to be the best player."_

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: Whoa, that was fast! I'm finally back in the swing. A lot of different things going on. First we got Jeremy wanting to feed more than is normal, Damon taking him somewhere with him to do who knows what, Tyler getting way more angry than is necessary and his dad provoking him, Vickie not knowing when to quit, Bonnie having visions of another life and knowing how to read Latin somehow, Stefan losing track of Elena, Elena off somewhere most likely doing drugs, Caroline dead as a way to get Klaus to come out of hiding for some reason, and a surprise guest. Something big is brewing. I hope you guys don't mind how dark this story is. It's going to get worse, especially with the whole Damon thing. I really urge you guys to heed the trigger warnings. Things will get very graphic, descriptive, and gory. Fast. Thank you to the two of you who reviewed! I am so honored to receive your feedback!**


	13. Havoc

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?**_ " **\- Arctic Monkeys**

* * *

 **Chapter 11 - Havoc**

 **ooo**

"Visible objects therefore do not perish utterly, since nature repairs one thing from another and allows nothing to be born without the aid of another's death."

― Titus Lucretius Carus

 **ooo**

Elena was nothing short of catatonic. She'd been drinking and taking pills since about 10am, finding the concept of passing out on her mother's grave way more enticing than sitting in class. What was the point of school anyway? To learn and better your future? Elena didn't want a future. She just wanted to lay there and die.

She sat up, her long hair a completely jacked-up mess on her head, and pulled out the last of the pills Vickie had brought.

"You're taking more?" Vickie mumbled from her spot on the grass a few feet away. A half-empty bottle of bourbon that Elena had stolen from Stefan's house was discarded by her feet.

"I don't care," Elena said in a monotone as she dumped two more pills down her throat and washed them down with Stefan's tequila. She wanted to feel bad for taking his family's liquor, but she just couldn't. She needed it. It was the only thing that was helping her block out what her Uncle John had done.

"You're like, totally fucked up today," Vickie said, laughing obnoxiously. She laid spread-eagle on the grass. "Like, more than usual."

"Fucked up equals nothing in my brain," Elena mumbled, drinking some more. She felt slightly nervous - afraid that Stefan was going to walk out of the trees and be angry with her for not only stealing the liquor, but for drinking it. She could still hear the commanding tone of his voice when he'd told her to slow down the night before. Shivering slightly, she set the bottle down and let the drugs and alcohol mingle together, taking her to new heights.

"Tyler went ape shit yesterday," Vickie said suddenly, laughing mirthlessly. "Flipped a table and bowled over his mom."

"Oh shit, for real?" Elena said. She wanted to sit up and express her astonishment, but the stuff had already hit her and she felt like she weighed a million pounds. She couldn't move even if she had to take a piss.

"Yeah, and he like, grabbed me and shit." Vickie sighed heavily. "It sucks so bad, in public he acts like I'm trash. But when we're alone, he treats me like a Queen."

"Ew, Vickie," Elena muttered, curling up onto her side. She was starting to feel it way too much, the high. She was so faded, she was about to disappear. "Are you talking about in the bed?"

"Hell yeah, I'm talking about in the bed," Vickie laughed. "He may be short as fuck, but he knows how to fu-"

"Gross, Vickie!" Elena cut her friend off, both of them bursting into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. "I don't need a play-by-play of your sex life with the Hobbit."

"Awww, don't call him a Hobbit! You're so mean! He's still taller than me, you know."

"Whatever," Elena said, her eyelids fluttering. She felt like she was so tired she just wanted to sleep, but every time she attempted it, her brains started screaming at her to wake up. She kept seeing visions of Stefan coming from all directions, and sometimes he had wings or horns or feathers or even green skin. She rolled to her other side and could swear she saw ant-sized Stefans running around in circles in the grass.

"What about you and Stefan, slut?" Vickie said, kicking Elena in the rump with her bare foot. "You slept the night at his house, didn't you?"

"Yes, but we didn't fuck or anything," Elena said, pillowing her head on her hands. "I fell asleep on his chest, though. And when I woke up, he was sleeping sitting up."

"So sweet," Vickie said. "He's really hot, you know. I feel like he looks too gentle in bed, though. I feel like he would like, lay you down on a bed of roses. Like that shitty song."

Elena smirked more to herself than to Vickie. "I dunno, last night he like told me not to to drink too fast."

Vicki sat up. "What do you mean?"

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean'?" Elena couldn't move, so she allowed her eyes to look at Vickie. Everything was a blur.

"I mean, what the fuck do you mean?" Vickie said, bringing her knees up to her chest and giving Elena a pointed look.

"I dunno," Elena mumbled, eyelids fluttering again. "I was just drinking out of the bottle like normal and he was all, slow down. But he didn't say it like that, he like . . . Barked it."

Vickie burst out laughing, which in turn caused Elena to laugh at her choice of description. The two girls then proceeded to laugh until tears gathered at the corners of their eyes, laughing at the fact that Stefan had barked. But even amongst the laughter, Elena still couldn't shake the fact that it had made her feel some type of way to hear Stefan talk to her like that. It was different than when other people told her what to do. When people like her Uncle or teacher told her to do something, every part of her wanted to go against it and do what she wanted. But Stefan has told her to slow down, and she did it without much resistance. Of course, she had still kept drinking more, but not nearly as fast.

"So you're saying that he wouldn't be gentle?" Vickie asked, laying back down after taking another swig from the bourbon bottle.

"I do not know, Vickie," Elena grumbled, rolling onto her back as well. She stared up at a sky that was dancing with a rainbow of drug-enhanced colors. "All I know is he told me to slow down, so I did. And I probably wouldn't be pissed if he told me what to do again."

"Even if he told you to jump off of the school?"

"If he was going to fuck me at the bottom, yeah," Elena said boldly, which caused the two girls to start giggling again.

Vickie then said, "Seriously, though. He is really cute. I can't tell if he likes you though, or if he's just a creeper. I see him staring at you a lot."

Elena felt a bit flattered, but she didn't believe her friend. Stefan was extremely attractive, and Elena didn't see why he would look at someone like her. She didn't respond to Vickie, instead choosing to force herself to sit up and rummage for more pills.

"Aw, man," Vickie groaned. "Elena, don't. You're gonna like, overdose. You'll end up on one of those shows on Investigate Discovery."

Elena ignored her. She didn't know if she was delusional or not, but she felt like her high was fading away. She wanted it back. She was scared that if it completely dispersed, then she'd feel Uncle John touching her again. She already was petrified of going home. She didn't know if her Uncle was going to try again and right now, her body was so scuffed up that she didn't think she'd survive another attack. The poor girl was entirely prepared to sleep in the cemetery all week if she had to.

As Elena prepared to down more pills, she heard a sharp voice behind her.

"Hey, drop it!" the voice snapped in a loud, short tone. She jumped, thoroughly startled, and dropped the pills to the ground.

Elena whirled around just as Stefan and Bonnie came traipsing down the path. She could only stand there, dumbfounded as Bonnie helped Vickie to her feet and Stefan came to stand a couple of yards away from her. His arms were crossed over his chest, his thin lips pursed lightly. His emerald-green eyes were watching her intensely, making her feel as though she were being analyzed on a spiritual level.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Elena said, pushing both of her hands into her hair and holding the sides of her head. She was swaying on her feet, having a hard time staying upright. Suddenly, she felt his knuckle under her chin, pushing her face upward. His eyes searched hers and he frowned.

"What did you take?"

"I . . ." She blinked, her eyes crossing and uncrossing in her failed attempt at focusing on him.

"Elena, what did you take?" he asked again, more forcefully this time.

"Oxycodone," Vickie answered for her as she put her arm around Bonnie to accept her help in walking toward the path. "She got it from me."

"Wonderful," Stefan said sarcastically. "How much of it did she take?"

"I don't fuckin' know, I wasn't counting," Vickie snapped. "I'm not her mom."

"My mom's dead," Elena said dreamily. Her knees buckled and she swooned, falling forward against his chest. He caught her with ease, slipping one of his arms under her knees and carrying her bridal style after Bonnie.

Elena wrapped her arms lazily around his neck, pushing her face up against the space between the underside of his jaw and his throat. She was so gone by now that all she registered was his body's warmth and the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. His scent. Her fingers played lightly with the hair on the back of his neck and she heard him make a weird noise in the back of his throat. It was like a growl, or something. Elena couldn't place it.

"Shit," she groaned in annoyance. "I'm so fucked up. You have no idea."

"Oh, I have an idea," Stefan muttered. "You guys almost finished off those bottles, and you lost count of how many pills you took. So yes, I have a pretty good idea of how fucked up you are."

Elena wanted to kiss the sharp curve of his strong jaw, but she resisted, instead choosing to rest her head on his shoulder and hug herself close to him. He was like a teddy bear.

"You don't even know me," she whispered. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I feel like I've known you forever," he replied immediately, keeping his eyes facing forward. "Don't know why or how. I just do."

"You say that so stoicly. Why are you so stoic and creepy?" she asked, kicking one leg outward in an almost flirtatious way.

He looked at her suddenly. "Really? You think I'm creepy?"

"Well, you're not exactly Mr. Rogers, but why are you carrying me? Why are you always around me? I don't know anything about you beyond that you have an Uncle and you moved here recently."

Stefan sighed. "This is why I'm carrying you."

He set her on her feet and she promptly fell over. Everything was swimming around and Elena started laughing. She heard him chuckling as he picked her back up and resumed walking.

"Well, at least I know you can laugh," Elena giggled before she put her head back on his shoulder.

He tried to hide his smile, but Elena could tell it was there. But she left him alone for now, mostly because her head had begun to hurt from the constant spinning, spinning, spinning, and she was starting to feel a bit sick. She took a deep breath, finding that it was a little more difficult to breathe than normal. The panic at not being able to breathe only served to cause her more anxiety which resulted in continued shallow breathing. Stefan gave her a strange look and when she tried to make another joke with him, she found that not only was her breathing shallow, but the incessant desire to sleep while being wide awake internally was only increasing. She couldn't seem to get her eyes open anymore.

"Whoa . . ." she mumbled, her hands starting to slide down from around his neck. "This shit is like, heavy. I . . ." She trailed off and was presently aware of the fact that Stefan had stopped walking.

"Elena? Elena, what's wrong?" Stefan asked, sounding intensely concerned.

"I'm . . . I'm fine," she breathed, failing to see any issues. "I'm just tired."

"No, no, no, Elena," Stefan said, his breathing ragged as he quickened his walking pace to catch up to the others. "Bonnie! *Bonnie!*"

"What? What's wrong?" she said, her and Vickie turning around. Vickie looked at Elena and her eyes went wide.

"Oh, my God, guys!" she cried out. "She's blue! What's wrong with her?"

Elena's eyes felt like they were sewn shut. Her entire body was completely limp, and even when she tried to move, nothing happened. Not even a twitch of a muscle. She could hear everything they were saying with complete clarity, could hear the distress in their tones, but there was nothing she could do about it.

"Vickie, how many pills did she take?!" Stefan shouted angrily. Elena heard a car door opening and felt herself being laid down on something soft.

"I don't . . . I don't know!" Vickie whined, and then Elena felt her head being pillowed on someone's lap. She felt slender hands stroking her hair and face, heard emotion in Vickie's voice.

"Try to wake her up," Stefan said with a commanding air about him. "Bonnie, you call the hospital and let them know we're coming. I'll drive."

A couple of car doors slamming later, and they were mobile. Elena honestly didn't understand what was going on. She knew that something was definitely wrong, and she knew they were all upset, but any time she tried to speak and let them know she was fine, she couldn't. It was like someone had glued her lips together. She could still feel Vicki's hand on her face, trying to pat her awake.

"Come on, Elena," Vickie whispered, sobbing. "Why is she so blue?!"

"She must have overdosed," Bonnie said, and Elena felt another set of hands on her, coming from what she assumed was the front of the car.

It was then that the panic started to set in. Because even as Bonnie said it, Elena knew she was right and she knew that if everything was okay, she would be able to respond to them. And even as that thought crossed her mind, she felt her breathing getting shallow again.

"Oh, God," Vickie wailed, sounding very near hyperventilation. "I'm so fucked up right now. What is happening?!"

"Vickie, no!" Bonnie said firmly. "You need to calm down, okay? Getting freaked out isn't going to help Elena." There was a pause. "Stefan, can you please drive faster?"

"Yup," he said, and Elena heard the engine revving.

After that, she heard nothing.

 **ooo**

"Where are we going?" Jeremy asked for what felt like the umpteenth time. He pulled his hood up over his head, though it made no difference underneath the rainfall.

The man was walking quite fast, almost inhumanly fast, but luckily Jeremy was keeping up. They had walked into the woods behind the hospital what felt like hours ago, and seemed to be going further and further from civilization as they went. The man hadn't said a word to him; he just kept blazing forward.

Finally, after another ten minutes or so of walking through the trees, the man stopped. Jeremy skidded to a halt behind him. He looked around, seeing that they were in a clearing much like the ones they had passed through previously. Finally, the man turned to face him. He didn't say anything - he just scrutinized Jeremy with those icy blue eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Okay, this is officially weird," Jeremy said. All around them, the rain was falling, soaking the both of them to the bone.

"We're here to test a theory," he said. "In these woods, about a half-mile North, there's a campsite full of yummy little treats just for you."

Jeremy's face screwed up in confusion. "What?"

"I told you, I'm testing a theory."

Jeremy put his hands on his hips. "Okay, I'll bite. What is this theory supposed to prove?"

"You'll find out, won't you?" the man said, nodding his head toward the dark trees. "Well, go on. Sic 'em."

Jeremy's brow furrowed. This was the strangest situation he'd ever been in. He bit his lower lip. Stefan had told him to try to feed on anyone and so far, he'd broken that rule multiple times. The problem with doing it one more time was the fact that there were, according to the strange man, "a campsite full of yummy little treats just for him." Jeremy didn't know if he could handle a situation like that.

And yet . . . Now that he was standing there in silence, contemplating it, his ears had begun picking up the sounds of the campers. They were all asleep, breathing softly or snoring. Jeremy could hear their hearts pumping blood and precious oxygen to their veins, and Jeremy imagined how sweet it must taste.

"We don't have all day, Gilbert," the man said impatiently. "Let's go."

He didn't need to be asked again. He shot forward, his fangs sliding down as he zoomed through the trees. Jeremy tried not to think about what was happening, and before he knew it, he was at the campsite. He picked the nearest tent and ripped it apart with his bare hands. The camper inside of it awakened and started screaming, but Jeremy was too quick for him. He practically pounced on the man, sinking his fangs into his throat and feeding voraciously. He hardly even tasted it - he just drank.

Jeremy moved his way around the campsite, tearing jugulars out, ripping out hearts, and consuming as much of their blood as he could. Behind him, the black-haired man was pacing back and forth almost anxiously, not seeming perturbed by his wildness and cannibalism. He had his arms crossed and for all intents and purposes, he looked like a scientist watching an experiment play out. He seemed very set upon the fact that he wanted Jeremy to feed on all of them, and he didn't seem to approve of the fact that he was leaving the victims alive.

"What are you _doing_?" the man barked angrily, his hand gripping Jeremy's shoulder and whirling him around.

"Huh?" Jeremy stammered, blood dripping from his maw. He ran his tongue over his fangs, blinking owlishly as he came out of his stupor.

"Why are you letting them live?" the blue-eyed man asked, peering at him inquisitively.

"Because my friend taught me how to make them forget," Jeremy said with a simple shrug, wiping his chin. The bloodlust was pounding at the back of his head and if it weren't for the blue-eyed man's gaze holding him in place, he'd be tearing into the last tent.

"Your friend?" the man smirked. "You mean Stefan?"

Jeremy nodded. "Do you know him?"

"He's my brother," he said.

"Oh," Jeremy said, his eyes sliding to the right as he tried not to look behind him at the remaining tent. The people inside were awake, sobbing and terrified, but Jeremy was unable to register their fear. All he could smell was the blood of their campmates.

The blue-eyed man suddenly grabbed Jeremy by the shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. He stared at him for a long time before he spoke.

"Kill them, Jeremy. I _want_ you to kill them." He smirked, and Jeremy felt a chill run down his spine. "In fact . . . It would make me _happy_ if you killed them. Every last one of them."

Even though his heart and mind were telling him not to listen to the man, begging him to do what was right and let the people live, every part of Jeremy's body was pulling him back in the direction of the comatose people he'd left in the ruins of their tents. One-by-one, he slaughtered them, ripping hearts from chests and dropping them to the ground like trash. When he got to the final tent, he killed the first one with a quick snap of the neck, looking the last one alive directly in the eyes.

"P-Please don't!" the woman screamed, scrambling backward against the tent wall with her blanket wrapped around her. Jeremy stared at her, his predatory eyes taking in the situation.

She was no match for him.

He leapt forward, grabbing her head with both hands and forcing it to the side. Her screams subsided to raucous sobs as he drained her body of its life force. Her fingernails soon stopped clawing at him, and her limbs went limp. Jeremy wanted to stop before he absorbed the last drop, but he kept hearing the man's words in his head.

' _It would make me_ _ **happy**_ _. . .'_

The woman's dead body crumpled to the floor and Jeremy stumbled backward, gasping for breath as the bloodlust subsided. He staggered out of the tent, staring bleary-eyed up at the man. He waited.

The man grinned widely.

"Congratulations," he said. "You're sired."

 **ooo**

Tyler tried to call Caroline again, but she didn't answer. He had fully expected it, since she was not exactly the most forgiving person, so he left her a voicemail.

"Listen, Care . . ." he started, sighing heavily. "I didn't mean what I said, all right? Just call me so we can talk. Things are . . . They're really bad at home. Anyway, just call me."

He hung up and slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, gazing out across the pond outside the front of his family's home. He relaxed on the stone bench and allowed his mind to wander.

What was going on with him? Tyler couldn't understand why he was _so_ angry all the time. His father had been an asshole for his entire life - why was Tyler suddenly unable to handle it? He was horribly ashamed of his outburst in the restaurant and allowing his mom to get hurt, but at the time, he had only been able to see red. He'd wanted to kill his father and he didn't know why.

"What are you doing over here?"

Tyler turned around, surprised to see his best guy friend standing there. He offered him a tiny, fleeting smile, and then jerked his head in the opposite direction to signal Matt to take a seat. The blonde football player sat down next to Tyler, patting him on the back once in comfort.

"I heard from Vickie what happened at The Grill," Matt said in a quiet voice. "What's going on with you?"

Tyler shook his head, burying it in his hands as he rested his elbows on his thighs. "I don't know, man. I honestly don't know. I'm just so _angry_ all the time. I don't understand it."

Matt frowned. "Maybe you're just stressed out? I mean, your dad _is_ an asshole."

"He's always been an asshole, though," Tyler complained. "The only difference is now I want to kill him for it."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yeah, dude," Tyler said, standing up and trying to control himself. He was starting to get pissed just _thinking_ about his dad. It was beginning to scare him.

Matt remained seated. "Well, do you . . . Do you need to like, _talk_ to someone? Like a counselor or something?"

"What?" Tyler shot him an incredulous look over his shoulder. "Nah, man, that's doin' too much. I just need a break from him, that's all. He's really been riding me about college and football."

"You're good at it, though," Matt said supportively. "Why wouldn't you want to go to school for it?"

"Because it's not what I want to do for the rest of my life, Matt," Tyler muttered. He leaned down and picked up a rock, skipping it across the pond with a powerful throw.

Matt stood up and did the same. "Then what _do_ you wanna do for the rest of your life, Ty?"

Tyler was silent for a long time. Sure, he'd told his father one thing earlier, but now that he thought about it? He had absolutely no idea. All he knew for sure was that he didn't want to try something and fail. He turned to face his friend.

"I want to spend the rest of my life figuring out what I want to spend the rest of my life doing," he said, spreading his arms out wide. "I want to wake up excited for what the day is going to hold. I want to be strong."

Matt nodded thoughtfully before skipping another pebble across the smooth surface of the pond. "I haven't thought about what I'm going to do."

"Have you guys heard from your mom?" Tyler asked.

"Vickie hasn't told you yet? Our mom left for good this time. But wow, she really hasn't told you?" Matt asked in response, looking surprised. "I would have thought that she . . . Why do you look so _guilty_?"

Tyler grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Vickie and I aren't exactly a thing. Like, we're a thing, but we aren't official. So she doesn't tell me that kind of stuff. And . . . I may or may not have freaked her out yesterday."

Matt glowered at him, dropping the rock he'd been about to throw. "What did you do?" he demanded angrily, his voice rising in crescendo.

"She came after me when I was pissed, man!" Tyler yelled back, throwing his arms out defensively. "I told her to back off, but she just kept coming!"

" _Okay_ , but what the Hell did you do?" Matt shouted, throwing both of his hands outward and shoving Tyler back a few steps.

"I just grabbed her, or whatever," Tyler said, waving a dismissive hand a few times. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, trying to downplay the situation. He knew it was bad, but seeing as he had no explanation for what had happened nor why he was so angry, he didn't know how to approach the topic with Matt. Tyler felt bad for how he had treated Vickie, and he felt bad for stringing her along all Summer, but at this point, he had way too much on his plate for him to know what to do about it.

"You grabbed her," Matt stated matter-of-factly, sounding astounded.

"Yes, I grabbed her!" Tyler spluttered. "Like, I grabbed her arms. But whatever, whatever! Just chill out."

Matt stormed off past him, throwing him a couple of dirty looks as he stalked off toward the front of the house. Tyler went after him, trying to apologize, but Matt wasn't having any of it.

"No, fuck you, dude!" Matt was yelling as they rounded the side of the mansion and started across the front grounds. "That's my _sister_!"

"I _know_ , Matt," Tyler growled, his eyes wary of the groundskeepers wandering around and listening in. "I didn't mean to do it, it just happened! It's not like I planned it!"

"Oh, like you didn't plan on fucking her into falling in love with you this Summer?" Matt snarled behind him. "Please, tell me more about how you didn't plan on leading her on just so you could break her heart."

Tyler kept trying to explain himself as they reached the driveway and Matt's car. He felt extremely distressed that Matt was angry with him, and he was annoyed by the fact that Matt wouldn't turn to look at him. He just wanted him to _understand_. Matt had his hand on the driver's side handle, preparing to leave as her made verbal vows to kick Tyler's ass if Vickie had bruises. The mixture of fear at getting in trouble and irritation at being virtually ignored mingled together and exploded, causing a familiar rage to blossom within Tyler.

Before he could stop himself, he slammed his fist into the window of Matt's car, shattering it completely and sending splinters of glass flying in every direction. Both he and Matt gasped, backing away from the car. They looked at each other, and Matt said nothing. He could only gape.

"I'm sorry, I . . ." Tyler put his hands on the sides of his head, shaking it in horror. His knuckles were bleeding, dripping into the sleeve of his thermal, and the silence was deafening. He began to feel stifled, claustrophobic, and acutely aware of the pain in his fingers. He didn't know how he had the strength to do that, nor why he had chosen to react that way, but by now he was officially freaked out. He'd hurt his mother, Vickie, and now had endangered his best friend Matt.

Tyler Lockwood turned tail and went flying toward the woods, sparing not a single glance behind him.

 **ooo**

* * *

 **Author's Note: As you can tell, there's no quote at the end of this chapter. By now, I think it's time to stop putting them in so I don't give it away. Anyway, thank you to the reviewers! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Also, warning you all again - the story will get darker. There will be sexual abuse and it will be graphic. Tell me though, do you guys want more scenes of Stefan and Elena talking like when they met and like the party when he pulled her out of the fight? Or do you like it better when they're going through drama? And do you want more scenes with Klaus, or do you like that there's only a few of them?**


	14. Fury

**Song of the Chapter: "** _ **Fangs**_ " **\- Little Red Lung**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 - Fury**

 **ooo**

"The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it. Ignorance may deride it, but in the end . . .

There it is."

\- Winston Churchill

 **ooo**

Have you ever had your stomach pumped and then woken up while they were in the middle of doing it? 0/10, would not recommend. It felt like claws were ripping her stomach out from the inside. Her entire body was heaving, working to push out the weird charcoal mixture they'd forced down her throat. Tubes had been inserted down her nose and in through her mouth and she choked with each gagging motion. Panic enveloped her as her eyes struggled to focus under the harsh lights. She could see doctors and nurses standing over her, all of them yelling over one another.

Apparently it wasn't a good thing if the patient woke up mid-pumping.

When the Hell was finally over with and Elena's entire body was trembling with pain and weak from exertion, they helped strip her of her clothes and put her in a hospital nightgown, and then wheeled her off to an empty hospital room. After getting her transferred into the new bed and hooked up to a heart monitor and IV, the doctor stood next to her bed with her arms crossed.

"What's your name, hun?" she said kindly, gently.

"E-Elena," she croaked, half-surprised that she could even talk with her throat as sore as it was.

"Hi, Elena. I'm Dr. Laughlin. How are you feeling?"

Elena blinked owlishly. She wanted to sit up but when she tried, she collapsed almost immediately. "I feel like so much shit," she groaned, rolling the back of her head on the pillow and looking off to the side.

Dr. Laughlin nodded thoughtfully. "That's understandable. Do you know what happened?"

Elena's brow furrowed as she tried to recall that afternoon's events. She remembered vividly what her Uncle had done, remembered sleeping on Stefan's couch, remembered blurry moments of the day, pills, Bonnie helping Vickie walk, the car . . . Then, nothing. She looked to the doctor, waiting.

"You overdosed on Oxycodone, Elena," Dr. Laughlin said gently. "We gave you a gastric lavage and charcoal to save you."

Elena felt the room begin to spin. "O-Overdose?"

Dr. Laughlin pressed her lips together, looking concerned. "Elena, I have to ask you . . . Did you do this on purpose?"

Elena started to shake her head but stopped herself. She didn't know the answer to that question.

"I don't . . . Think so?" Elena murmured, reaching up to move her hair out of her eyes. "Did I . . . ?"

Dr. Laughlin sighed. "Your friends brought you in awhile ago, and you were completely blue. That's why we had to give you the procedure. Do you have a family member we could call?"

Elena's mind was spinning. She was hearing what the doctor was saying, but it wasn't quite registering in her mind. She could recall very little about the afternoon, but one thing was clear: she absolutely did not want her Uncle John to know where she was.

"You can call Zach," she said decidedly, feeling only slightly bad about the lie. "Zach Salvatore. He lives in the Salvatore Boarding House."

Dr. Laughlin nodded and left the room. Almost as soon as she did, Bonnie rushed into the room looking simultaneously worried and perplexed.

"Elena, why didn't you give your uncle's name?" she asked, coming to stand beside the bed. Her facial expression was sincere and though Elena still didn't trust her, it was clear to her at this point that Bonnie still cared for her.

"Because I can't," Elena said, wincing as she adjusted her sitting position in the hospital bed. Her stomach felt like it was swollen, and it was tender to the touch. "He can't know anything about this."

Bonnie frowned. "Why? Because you're afraid he'll actually get you the help you need?"

"I don't need help, Bonnie," Elena mumbled. She averted her gaze. "What I need is to get the Hell out of here."

Bonnie snapped, "Elena, you just _overdosed_. Why would you want to be anywhere but here, safe in the hospital?"

Elena remained silent, unsure of how to proceed. Bonnie seemed to be extremely invested in Elena's well-being, whereas Elena wanted nothing to do with her. And safe? Elena felt anything but safe. She had _woken up_ in the middle of surgery, and if that wasn't the opposite of safety, Elena didn't know _what_ was. And as her eyes traveled around the white room reminding her of everything she had lost and everything she still stood to lose, she felt like the walls were shrinking inward.

Elena threw her blankets aside and, breathing heavily in her panic, started to get out of bed. It hurt like a bitch, but she forced herself to keep going. Even when she felt like her stomach was ripping in half, flesh being torn apart from flesh, and kept limping toward the door. Bonnie just stared at her in shock, visibly stupefied for a moment. Elena stared back at her, pausing at the doorway.

"You're not even going to _try_ to stop me?" Elena asked, completely confused.

Bonnie looked past her, and Elena felt her heart sink. The expression on her face told her everything.

"What, you think I don't know every single person in this town, _including_ the doctors, Elena?"

The second Elena heard his voice, she felt the blood turn to ice in her veins. Immediately, mental images of the night before came flooding back into her mind, and she completely froze. Elena felt scared - almost like she was still trying to scramble away from his clutches that night - and she forgot to breathe.

"You've been gone for an entire night, Elena!" Uncle John practically screamed, obviously not caring that Bonnie was still standing in the room. At the sound of the yelling, however, Bonnie immediately exited, unaware of the true severity of the situation. As soon as she left the room, Uncle John had his hands around Elena's upper arms, gripping her so tightly that she felt the muscles seizing up in pain. Elena kept her eyes cast downward - she was too afraid to look up into his face.

"I didn't want to come home," Elena shot back through gritted teeth. She was trying not to feel woozy, but the combination of his vice-like grip and her aching stomach was threatening to knock her off of her feet. She wanted to scream and cry, but she refused to allow herself to break down in front of him again. She refused to allow her Uncle to get the best of her.

"You know what, Elena?" her Uncle said as he dragged her back to the hospital bed. "I've had it. I'm not doing this dance with you anymore."

Elena didn't have the energy or strength to struggle as he forced her into the bed and yanked the covers over her. His receding hairline and tight-lipped grimace told her that he was exasperated, but it also told her something else. Something that didn't make sense, couldn't make sense. Her brow furrowed as the thought crossed her mind.

"Do you even _remember_ what you tried to _do_ to me?" she asked, her voice coming out quieter than she'd intended.

Her Uncle stood next to the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, his tie and suit for work rumpled in his disheveled state. Even though he looked enraged, Elena could see the confusion in his eyes. He had no idea what she was talking about, and it was 100% clear to see. As puzzling as that was to Elena, all she could do was lay there and continue to be confused.

"Do? Tried to do what?" he asked, shaking his head in question.

Elena looked toward the open hospital door, as if it had answers, and then looked up at her Uncle. She tried not to be sick remembering how he had touched her, wondering if she was insane or if she had been so fucked up on drugs that she was imagining it all. It wouldn't be the first time Elena took pills that were cut with something else and caused her to have a bad trip. What made yesterday's drug use any different?

The brunette, weak and in muted agony, sat and tried to make sense of it all. What if he was just pretending because they were in public? What if it was all an act, and the second she was able to go home, he tried something again? What if this was all part of a weird power trip or mental abuse designed to manipulate her into believing she was imagining it all? As the questions piled up, the anxiety started to bud in the pit of her ruined stomach. Her hands were under the blankets, absentmindedly clenching and unclenching, and she stared down at her covers.

"Enough, Elena," John said angrily, launching into a disciplinary monologue. "This is _enough_. You have had your fun, terrorizing me and trying to ruin my life and my career ever since we got here to care for you. You've run around all over town with that trailer trash Donovan girl, doing whatever you please, for the entire Summer, and I will _not_ put up with it any longer."

Elena just stared at him. She didn't know what to say or even how to respond. So she simply laid there, hyper-aware of the fact that they were alone in the room. The fear of the possibility that Uncle John actually _did_ remember what had happened, and was just pretending to have forgotten, was growing larger in the back of her mind, deepening with every second that went by. She knew she was about to have a panic attack, and not just because the heart monitor was steadily quickening its incessant beeping.

Uncle John placed one hand on the frame of the hospital bed and the other curve to point at her. He leaned down close to her face, his beady blue eyes pinning her to the pillows.

"From now and for the rest of your Junior year, you are grounded, young lady," he said, punctuating his words with vicious pokes to her chest bone below her collarbones. "You are to go to school in the morning and come home in the afternoon to do your homework. Then, you will have chores until bedtime. You will go to sleep, and then you will wake up and do it all over again. No more parties, no more sneaking out, no more drugs and alcohol. No more friends."

Then, before Elena could even think to blink, he leaned down closer and hissed, "If you even _think_ about going against my rules, I will have you on the first bus to a boarding school in the mountains, and you won't be allowed in my home again."

Elena narrowed her eyes. Something about the way he said "my home" reminded Elena of the fact that technically, it _wasn't_ his home. Technically, it had been left to Elena upon her 18th birthday, and he was only there because he was the closest living relative who could be placed as a guardian.

"It's _not_ your home," Elena snapped, mustering up all of her strength and slamming her palms against his shoulders. He stumbled backward, looking shocked, and though Elena feared his reaction, she wasn't going to back down. Not from this. She held his gaze with courage, even though she couldn't really defend herself if he lost his shit on her.

Uncle John suddenly lurched forward, grabbing the fabric of her nightgown by the fistful, and glowered down into her face. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off almost instantaneously by Dr. Laughlin walking back into the room.

"Oh, is this Mr. Salvatore?" she asked, holding a clipboard in her hands.

Uncle John slowly took a step back, leaving Elena with a withering glare, and then turned to the doctor.

"No, my name is John Gilbert," he said curtly. "I'm her uncle."

Dr. Laughlin appeared surprised as she walked over to the bedside. She held out her hand and Uncle John took it.

"I'm Dr. Laughlin, I'm the doctor who performed the procedure on your niece here," she said in a friendly way. It made Elena cringe. She wished people could see what a total dickwad he was.

"The procedure you _illegally_ performed on a minor, you mean," Uncle John said in the same clipped tone. "Yes, I am aware. But you may continue."

Dr. Laughlin blinked, mouth slightly agape as she processed the words Elena's Uncle had just spoken. She laughed a little bit, incredulously, and then shook her head as if to rid her ears of water.

"Oookay," she said. "Sir, I am an Emergency Room surgeon, not a police officer. Your niece would have died had we not performed the-"

"Rules were not made to be broken, doctor," Uncle John said, smiling mirthlessly. "Contrary to the popular euphemism."

Dr. Laughlin took one hand off of the clipboard and put it on her hip, looking beyond perplexed. Elena had a feeling the doctor had never experienced a patient's family member be so rude, but Elena was not surprised at his behavior. Uncle John was all about rules, regulations, and punishments.

"Right, well in any case, your niece is going to be fine," Dr. Laughlin said, glancing down at her clipboard. "She overdosed on Oxycodone pills and was brought in with enough time for us to pump her stomach and save her life. Though it's pretty obvious you don't care. So." She slammed the clipboard against his chest and provided him with the same snide smile he had given her. "Please sign the release that enables Elena to be discharged in the morning, and that allows us to continue giving her pain medication in small doses to help after the surgery."

"No."

Dr. Laughlin appeared to have been hit by a truck. Her eyebrows shot up, and she seemed stunned. Frankly, Elena felt the same. She was surprised that her Uncle had taken a wrong turn in Asshole Land, and after what he had tried to do to her yesterday, she was astonished that he would be so callous.

"I'm sorry . . . _What_?" Dr. Laughlin choked out.

"I said no," Uncle John said, crossing his arms low in front of him and standing there. "I won't sign them."

"Why not?" the doctor spluttered, her blue eyes as wide as plates. She seemed genuinely astonished.

Uncle John pursed his lips. "She overdosed on pain pills and to help with her pain, you want to . . . What?" He raised one eyebrow. "Give her more pain pills?"

"Mr. Gilbert," she responded with a slightly incredulous laugh. "It's not the same thing. We'd be giving her a very small controlled dose through an IV, and it wouldn't be enough to get her anywhere near the point she was when she was brought in."

Uncle John said, "So you mean to tell me . . . That you performed an illegal surgery on a minor, without even bothering to ask for name, age, or a contact before hand, and now you want to have my permission to give her more of the thing that put her in the hospital in the first place?"

Dr. Laughlin was silent.

Elena's uncle went on, "I don't think I need to tell you how unethical what you're requesting is, and I hope you realize that I could sue you for malpractice." He clapped his hands together once and gave both Elena and the doctor one of his ridiculously egotistical smiles. "So. With that being said, Elena will not be receiving any more medication of any kind. I am aware that I can sign a release-only form at the front desk, so I'm going to go and do that. Elena, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning with some clothes for school."

Dr. Laughlin stood there, visibly shaken and more than a little bit floored at what had just taken place. She watched him walk out, seeming to be trying to comprehend everything. Then, she frowned and turned to Elena.

"Wow," she said. "You were right. He really _is_ an asshole."

Elena didn't have the energy to laugh, but she was able to dredge up a small twitch of the lips. Her feelings were in contrast with Dr. Laughlin's. Yes, Elena believe her uncle was a total dick, but she wasn't surprised in the slightest that he had reacted that way. Uncle John was very discipline-oriented, and though he was usually more inclined to making everything appear as though the family was perfect, in a situation like this it made more sense for him to be . . . Well, an asshole.

She had to admit, though, she was upset. Her entire body was throbbing in pain, and her stomach and throat felt like they were on fire. She felt devastated at not being able to have any sort of reprieve from it, but she knew it was better than facing what had happened to her the other night.

Dr. Laughlin sighed heavily and placed a comforting hand on Elena's shoulder. "Just try to rest well tonight, Elena. The pain is only temporary. I'll send a nurse in to check your vitals in a while. You can press the button on the side of the bed if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay," Elena replied with a small nod. She watched the doctor leave the room, and Elena couldn't deny she felt a little bummed. She didn't really feel like being alone with her thoughts right now, even though she wanted nothing more than be left alone all summer.

Elena felt the silence descend upon her like a heavy woollen blanket, ensconcing her in the soft fabric of calmness that only a lack of noise could provide. Though the room was calm, Elena felt as though there were a thin layer of something solid surrounding her whole body, blocking her from its effects. Inside, she only felt panic. Constant, beating panic that oscillated with every thought and memory that crossed her mind.

She closed her eyes and tried not to think about all the things that were going wrong in her life. Her parents had passed away, leaving her and her brother with a total demon for a guardian and an aunt who paid none of it any mind. Elena couldn't decide if her unwillingness to step in and stand up for her niece and nephew was worse than the way their uncle treated them. Her brother was in the hospital and she hadn't heard from him in a couple of days, which was worrying enough as it was without her having to be concerned about the fact that her uncle had chased her all over their house with the sole intention of doing her bodily harm. To top all of that off, she had no friends left, all of them either having no idea how to talk to her in the wake of the accident, or using it as an excuse to break "free" of their friendship (i.e. Caroline Forbes). Bonnie was trying and she had Vickie, but Elena had once had so many friends that she couldn't make it to any of her classes on time because she was always chatting and joking in the hallways.

Elena could remember a time when she wasn't high from the second she woke up to the moment her head hit the pillows at night. She was a lot more carefree then, when the only thing she had to worry about was the next cheerleading practice, or what her grade was going to be on her Geometry test. Her Freshman year had been a whirlwind of fun, excitement, success, romance . . . Everything she could have ever hoped for. Captain of the cheerleading team, her boyfriend Matt was the star football player, she was studious and cared about college. It was almost picturesque now that she thought about it.

Groaning as a sudden pain flared up in her stomach, Elena rolled onto her side and curled up. It felt akin to cramps, but multiplied by the hundreds. She tried to control her breathing as a method of managing it all, but it wasn't working very well. Before she knew it, tears had filled her eyes and she was sobbing. It was one of the very few times she had wept in months and it was a result of the culmination of everything that was weighing down upon her right now. She felt completely and utterly overwhelmed, lost, and depressed among other things. Elena didn't know when or if anything was going to change, but right now, she couldn't handle any of it.

Sometimes, admitting the truth about the problem to yourself is much easier than admitting that you have a problem in the first place.

 **ooo**

Damon crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the brick wall. He watched in silence as his harried companion paced back and forth in front of him in the alley. He seemed to be distressed, what with the way he was muttering to himself and generally freaking out. Ever since Damon had found out the boy was sired to him and explained what it all meant, the boy had been trying to make sense of it for hours. Even as Damon had talked him through staging the campsite to look like a random animal attack, the boy seemed completely horror-struck. Whether it was that he was aghast at what he done, what he was, or what being sired meant, Damon had yet to figure out.

"You're literally going to pace yourself to China," Damon said, placing one foot back on the wall. "Can you just chill out?"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Jeremy snapped, putting his hands on his hips. He was still wearing the clothes Damon had lent him, and for some reason Damon noticed that they fit him well. He was surprised, since he was much taller than the boy.

"Eat something, have a drink, whatever," Damon shrugged.

"I'd _love_ to eat, Damon whoever-you are, thank you!" Jeremy suddenly shouted in a sarcastic yet panicky tone. He threw his arms wide. "I'd love to eat a giant cheeseburger and have it actually sustain me, but I can't. Why? Because I drink human blood. No big deal." He turned and kicked the wall on the opposite side of the alley, apparently unaware of his new strength. The brick caved in and crumbled in the spot, only earning itself a curse word or two from the young teen.

"You're dead, dude," Damon scowled, rolling his icy blue eyes. "Get over it."

Jeremy whirled around to face him. "You're the one who did this, you dick!" he yelled angrily, pointing at him and nodding. "Yeah, that's right. I remember."

Damon waved a dismissive hand, pushing off from the wall and taking a step closer to Jeremy. "That's not important."

"Yes, it is!" Jeremy practically screamed, shoving Damon backward so hard that he caused cracks to appear in the side of the building. "I remember now. I was walking through the woods, trying to go get some more firewood for the bonfire, and then you attacked me. You . . . You turned me into this."

"I believe . . ." Damon said as he brushed flecks of brick and mortar out of his hair. "The word you're looking for is 'vampire'. And for the record, I did you a favor."

"A favor?!" Jeremy looked like he wanted to shoved him again, but Damon had a feeling that he was afraid that if he did, he might completely destroy one side of the Mystic Grill. Jeremy clenched his fists against his temples. "In what _fucking_ universe do you believe that this is a positive thing?! I have to drink _human blood_ to survive. What if I _kill_ someone?"

Damon rolled his eyes. He hadn't signed up for this. He'd only come here because Klaus had compelled him to, though he didn't understand why. Damon didn't get why he needed to mess with Elena. He knew what the end goal was supposed to be, but he didn't understand why he couldn't just do the deed himself. Why did Klaus want him to go through every hoop imaginable just to get what he wanted?

Compelling the Uncle to suddenly get violent had been easy enough, but Jeremy was a rather unfortunate accident. He'd intended to kill him, not turn him into a vampire. The fact that Jeremy was sired to him made things even worse. All Damon had to do was snap his fingers and, no matter how angry Jeremy was, he'd do Damon's bidding. It was creepy, yeah, but Damon knew he could make it work. He just didn't know for how long. Mystic Falls was a relatively large town with a small town mentality, and one vampire (Stefan) was enough to cause problems. Throw in a second (himself) and now a third (Jeremy), it was a recipe for complete and utter disaster.

Finally done ranting, Jeremy muttered under his breath, "I just want to go home, but I can't."

"Last time you did, you attacked your sister," Damon said matter-of-factly. He didn't much care, in fact he had hoped for it. In order for Klaus's plan to work, Elena needed to be as broken and vulnerable as possible. Easy to hurt, and then at her lowest point, he needed to strike. The girl was already a disaster on two left feet, from what he'd seen - depressed, angry at the world, full of self-hatred, addicted to whatever drug helped her forget about everything . . . The list went on. Now that Damon had compelled the Uncle to start working on her, Damon didn't think it would be very long before he had Elena Gilbert exactly where Klaus needed her to be.

There was just one problem.

"And then I made her forget."

"Compulsion," Damon chuckled darkly. "One of the perks of being a bloodsucker. We can make humans do anything we want. I'm surprised you knew to give her vampire blood to heal the wound. Instinct, I'm guessing."

Jeremy said nothing, his eyes falling to the ground in a thoughtful yet despairing manner. It was clear that he was upset over the fact that he had attacked his sister, but Damon didn't care. Right now, he had a problem he needed to tackle and while he was sure he could do it alone, he felt that having Jeremy on his side could come in handy. The only issue was how quickly Jeremy had obliterated that campsite full of humans. It could be nothing, but Damon wondered . . . He had one more thing to test out.

"Come on," he said, suddenly walking down the alley and out to the main road. It was dark out, being the middle of the night, and nothing but streetlights and the occasional car made their presences known. Jeremy hesitated but then followed him like a dutiful dog.

"Where are we going?" Jeremy asked, his voice sounding subdued. It seemed his anger was exhausted for the moment.

"I have one more test to perform with you, and then we're going to do something fun," Damon said, smirking to himself. He walked out into the town square and began scanning the area for any sign of life. He glanced over his shoulder at Jeremy, chewing the inside of his lip absentmindedly.

"What?" Jeremy asked, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"How do you feel about family?" Damon asked, eyebrows raised.

Jeremy said nothing, looking puzzled, and Damon waved a dismissive hand. His quick vampire gaze had picked up on some movement in across the road, a middle-aged man locking up a coffee shop for the night. It was the last building that had been open, so he was the only one in the square besides Damon and Jeremy. Damon's lips twitched into a smirk.

"You feel like a midnight snack?" he asked.

"Didn't we just . . . Damon, you just made me _kill_ all those people!" Jeremy hissed, his anger flashing again. "You can't be serious?"

"Relax," Damon said, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. "This test isn't about how far you go . . . It's about whether or not you stop."

Fear filled his eyes, but Damon turned toward the man who was just reaching his car. He signalled to Jeremy, beginning to walk across the grass of the park. If this plan worked - which Damon had a good feeling he knew the answer to his own question - then Damon was going to have both a lot of problems and a lot of advantages in the situation. And if he was indeed right about Jeremy, then there was only one person who could help. And that person also happened to be Damon's "one problem."

"Sharpen those fangs, Gilbert," Damon said as the two of them watched their soon-to-be victim's car pull out of the parking lot and start off down one of the roads. "After snacktime, we're going for a family reunion."

Jeremy nodded, and then the two of them shot off like rockets, following the victim all the way home.

 **ooo**

Tyler felt his breathing pace quicken as his feet hit the ground with as much speed as he could manage in his heightened state of upset. He'd been running for hours, until long after the sun had dipped below the horizon and plunged the Earth into darkness. He'd run from his family's estate, through the woods, through the cemetery, past suburban streets and the school, through the town square, and now back through more suburban roads.

He had no idea where he was going or when he would stop, but he could tell that there was something wrong with him. He wasn't growing tired and his anger only seemed to be increasing with each passing moment. He didn't have anyone's face pictured - all he knew was that he was so full of ire that it was choking him.

Above, the moon hung full and bright, beckoning all who worshipped it.

All-of-a-sudden, Tyler was standing on the front lawn of the Donovan family mobile home. The rage was so hot within his veins that he felt like screaming. He didn't know why, but he wanted Matt to pay for the argument earlier. He wanted to beat his face in until there was nothing left. He wanted him to die.

Tyler stood there for a full 20 minutes, doing nothing but glaring at the dark windows of the sleeping home. He knew that their mom was M.I.A, but that Vickie was in her room on one end of the mobile home; Matt's room was on the other. If he was quiet, maybe he could . . .

His thoughts trailed off as his conscience finally spoke up. What was he thinking? What was he _doing?_ Matt hadn't done anything to him to warrant his death, let alone an attack. It made no sense whatsoever. The more Tyler rationalized his thoughts, the more settled they became, until the anger faded away entirely and he was left with nothing but exhaustion. He collapsed on the ground as the front door creaked open.

Vickie stepped out onto the grass and ran to his side, falling to her knees beside him.

"Tyler ,are you okay?" she asked, the night breeze pushing her hair out of her eyes. She gazed down at him with concern, one hand cupping his face as she peered down at him.

Tyler, lying flat on his back, just stared back at her. He remember the things Matt had said to him - that he felt like Tyler was using Vickie. Tyler didn't know if it was true. He knew he didn't want anyone to know about them, especially not his parents, but even Tyler could admit that when she wasn't near him, he thought about her. And now here she was, innocently worried about his well-being, and he had done nothing but treat her like crap.

"Something's wrong with me," was all Tyler could think to say.

"Are you . . . Are you on something?" she asked, shivering involuntarily from the cold. "You look like Hell. Your clothes are all dirty, dude."

"I'm just . . ." Tyler tried to think of the right words, but he couldn't pinpoint how to describe it. It wasn't just a regular anger. It was intense, burning, consuming fire that burned brightly when ignited. So brightly that Tyler could barely stand it, and he had to lash out to feel any sort of relief. It was like the fire spoke to him, told him that everything would be okay if he hurt someone. That another's pain was his reprieve.

"Why don't you come inside?" Vickie said, patting his face and giving him a warm smile. "Matt's totally passed out, he won't know."

Wordlessly, Tyler allowed Vickie to help him up and he followed her into the dark house. They made their way quietly into her tiny room, where she closed the door and latched it shut. As she did that, Tyler laid down on her small twin bed, as he had many times before, fully expecting her to lie down beside him. Instead, he watched her rummage through her closet, the moonlight illuminating her room in slivers through the blinds. She turned around, a bottle of tequila in hand.

They proceeded to take a couple of shots each, not saying a word to one another. This was normal for them, though. Most people would find the silence uncomfortable, but not Tyler and Vickie. It was always this way - Tyler would come over, they'd drink, stay silent, and enjoy each other's company. They slept together occasionally, but it was mindless and usually a result of the alcohol. Sometimes, Tyler simply napped in her bed while she went to work at the Grill. It was simple, uncomplicated, and exactly what Tyler felt he needed.

But not tonight. Tonight was different. He didn't want simple. He wanted to feel something - anything - other than anger. He couldn't take his eyes off of Vickie. He was intensely, insanely attracted to her and it was scaring him. Every fiber in his body was telling him to grab her and kiss her, hold her down, choke her . . . Kill her . . .

In his mind, images of the full moon blinked in and out.

"What's wrong, Tyler?" Vickie asked, obviously uncomfortable with Tyler's staring.

"N-Nothing," Tyler said, digging his fingers into the blankets. He was sitting in the corner of the bed where the walls met, facing outward. Vickie was sitting at the end of the bed.

Vickie twisted the lid back onto the tequila and rose up on her knees. Tyler watched quietly as she shuffled closer, placing her hands on his kneecaps. He didn't stop her as she pushed them downward, until his legs were stretched out straight. She crawled up the length of his body, on all fours, her face close to his. Neither of them spoke - they just looked into each other's eyes.

The first move was made by the Donovan girl, her nose brushing against his briefly. He felt his skin prickle when one of her hands came up to rest on the crook between his neck and shoulder. She jerked him forward a bit, their lips crashing together in a dance that was familiar to them both. They'd kissed countless times over the Summer, but for some reason, this time felt different. Tyler gasped into her mouth, grabbing her face with his hands and tilting his head to deepen the kiss with zeal. The rage inside of him had returned, but was morphing into a type of passion he'd never before felt.

Tyler's tongue dipped into Vickie's mouth, tasting her as he pulled her fully onto his lap. She straddled his hips, immediately engaging him back. She ran her fingernails through his hair and he groaned, his own hands traveling up her back and into her hair. They kissed for a while longer, and Tyler could feel the intensity of the air in the room. He could tell something was wrong with him, but he had no idea how to stop it at this point. He pulled her hair, ripping her lips away from his and causing her to yelp in pain. Tyler ignored this, latching his mouth onto the side of her throat and laving his tongue against her pulse and up around the shell of her ear. She whimpered, grinding her hips down into his and awakening a beast so fully that there was no denying Tyler was having a serious problem.

Needing a release from the intensity, he grabbed Vickie's wrist and forced her hand down into his pants. She didn't resist, however, and began to fondle him the way she knew he liked to be touched. He felt her fingers wrapping around his length, constricted though they were by the fabric of his jeans, and he buried his face in her neck. She smelled of alcohol and strawberry body wash.

Such a fragile throat . . .

Tyler gasped raggedly, his hands coming up to wrap their fingers around Vickie's slender neck. She stopped touching him for a moment, halted by the suddenness of his actions, and she opened her mouth to protest. She was cut off. Tyler began to squeeze her windpipe and esophagus so hard that her eyes bugged out of her head. Horror clouded her vision and her fingers immediately began to attempt to pry his fingers away. He was squeezing so hard that she couldn't even speak.

Tyler pushed her backward until her back his the mattress. She struggled beneath him, but he couldn't stop. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was he needed a release, and something was telling him that this was the right thing to do.

And yet . . .

Looking into her eyes, watching the tears spilling over, Tyler found the will to stop. He released some of the pressure on her skin, allowing her to choke down a couple of breaths. Tyler stayed hovering above her, fighting with himself. He wanted to keep choking her, to feel the life leave her body as he strangled her. He didn't know why.

Another part of him wept bitterly, though. Seeing her cry like that, as she was crying silently now, Tyler knew he would regret it if he were to cause her death. In fact, at this point, he couldn't imagine life without her.

"T-Tyler, please," Vickie whispered, his fingers still on her. Tyler knew she was scared he would resume the strangling. "I . . . I love you . . ."

Tyler stared at her for a split second, the words settling in. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but now, hearing this . . . He knew he had to fight it. And if he couldn't defeat it, he needed to give in the to the lesser of the two evils. He trembled as he took a shaky breath, struggling to pull his own hands away from her throat.

"This isn't going to make sense," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "But something is wrong with me."

Vickie nodded, tears still rolling.

"I don't know why I want to hurt you, but I really, _really_ do," Tyler continued with a break in his voice, feeling his emotions flaring. His eyes began to sting.

"Then hurt me," Vickie sobbed, her violently shaking hands wiping his tears away. "I love you, Tyler. I trust you. Hurt me. But please . . . Don't k-kill me."

Tyler closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel it, waiting just beneath the surface. He couldn't hold it back much longer. He needed to do something, and fast.

"I have to be rough," he breathed, his fingers digging into the comforters beside her head. "I'm sorry."

"Okay," Vickie said, nodding rapidly.

"Don't try to stop me, even if it hurts. I don't know what will happen if you do . . ."

"It's okay. I'm yours, Tyler."

Tyler gazed into her eyes for a moment longer, leaning down to kiss her tears away. He felt horrible for what was about to happen, but he had to did it. Something was _wrong_ with him and if he didn't find some way to release the pent-up feelings of fury he'd been experiencing, he was afraid he'd kill her. He didn't want to kill her. He needed her.

He wasn't gentle with her. He was rough, rougher than he ever had been. He kept his hands away from her throat, but he bruised her shoulders, pulled her hair, clawed her hips. He rammed himself in and out of her, listening to her muffled whimpers of agony as she kept her face against the side of his. She kept her arms around his neck as tightly as she could, her moans of pain sometimes being broken with "it's okay"s and "I love you"s. Tyler had his way with her in every sense of the word, and as he did so, the tears continued to fall from his eyes. He hated himself for this.

Outside, the full moon shone.

 **ooo**

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 **Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took so long, and sorry for how mean I was to Vickie T.T Everything has its place in the plot, though! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter! Next chapter will have Klaus in it and a Stefan POV! Thank you for all of your reviews, they mean so much to me and have inspired me to continue this story!**


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